Power Behind the Throne
by Ethiercn
Summary: This story present an alternate ending to the New Warriors Child Play Arc.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Power Behind the Throne

Author: Ethiercn

Disclaimer: Marvel owns all recognizable characters. I am not making a profit.

Rating: MA

Note: This story is not connected to any of my other fics. It starts during the "Child's Play" arc of _New Warriors_.

Justice opened his eyes. He tried to move but couldn't. Okay, I'm restrained and in a dimly lit room, he concluded calmly. He gave a tentative jerk at the restraints that pinned him against the wall and tried without success to use his telekinesis. Power dampers as well, he thought, studying the small room with one door and no windows, and no one else in the room.

No, he thought, that had to be wrong. He remembered delivering Angel to Shaw, Shaw touching her with his oily paws, commenting on her beauty, and then, well then he didn't remember anything.

And Firestar was not in the cell with him.

She's in a different cell, Justice told himself as he pulled violently against the chains, trying as hard as he could to override the power dampers. He had to get out.

Stupid bastard, he raged at himself. He should have never agreed to this part of the plan. Never should have pressured her. Never should have said that her life was worth less than justice. How had he been so stupidly blind to the risks? He yanked hard, felt his muscles straining, and no give at all from the restraints. What had he been thinking? He knew it had been a mistake the minute Shaw cupped her face in his hands.

Panting, Justice sagged in the restraints. Think, he told himself sternly, don't panic. She's in another cell that's all. What other cell, he asked himself realizing that there was just this one, which meant that Shaw . . . Frantically, Justice struggled again.

Later, his head pounding and his body covered in sweat, Justice looked up in hope as the door to the cell opened.

But it wasn't Angel. Just two members of X-Force, Cannonball and Boomer.

"Did you see Firestar?" he asked when the two other mutants woke up. They shook their heads. As Justice filled them in on Thrash's plan, the only image he could see in his mind was Shaw raping Angel.

His high price hair cut ruined, Shinobi Shaw struggled against the force that pinned against the wall. This was all the Gamemaster's fault; he thought to himself as he struggled to breath, never should have listened to that bald-headed bastard.

"Where is she" Justice demanded.

Nova and Nita exchanged glances. Justice's anger was too cold; it scared them. Hot anger they both could understand, but not this. Super-Tights had been like this since they realized Angel was gone.

Shaw didn't say anything, just smirked.

This, it turned out, was the wrong thing to do. Shaw could felt a sudden increase in the pressure on his bones.

"Where is she?" Justice asked again.

Nova looked over at Thrash who hadn't said anything since X-Force left. Why didn't Thrash say something, Nova thought, this had been his stupid plan to begin with.

"Did you touch her?" Justice asked, and Nova swore. He hadn't thought of that, though, judging from her face, Nita had.

Shaw coughed, "No," he struggled for to breathe, "Someone paid for her."

"Who? Why?" Justice punctuated his questions with another push.

Shaw grimaced in pain, "Don't know, don't care. Though considering her looks, I can think of quite a few reasons. Come to think of it, I should've sampled her myself." His head snapped back as telekinetic punch knocked him out before Nita, who had moved forward, could lay a finger on him.

"So who would pay for her?" Speedball asked.

"How many enemies do we all have?" Nita replied. "Any of them."

"I think," Thrash said quietly, "that we should consider the fact that Firestar is dead."

Justice's power slammed into Thrash, sending the armored man against the wall with a loud thud. Well, Nova thought to himself, we all have wanted to do that to Thrash at one point, just never thought it would be Super-Tights, thought it would me or Nita.

"She's not dead," Justice stated as Thrash pushed himself up, and for the first time Nova could hear the desperation, fear, and anger in his friend's voice. "She's missing."

"We don't know that," Thrash replied coolly. "If she's gone, considering her background, she is most likely dead."

Nova took an involuntary step forward, unsure if he was going to try to hold Justice back or punch Thrash himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nita do the same.

"We don't know that either," Justice countered. "She's out there, and we owe it to her to find her. Stay out of my way if you aren't going to help."

The first thing that Firestar saw when she woke feeling foggy and hazy was the back of someone's head. Immediately afterwards, she became aware of the rhythmic movement and feel of a car on the road. Soon after came the realization that Justice was not in the vehicle with her.

She raised her head slowly, shaking it slightly to get her long hair out of her eyes. There was no new car smell, and the car itself was not car, but a van. She was on the floor, hands bound with something that stopped her from using her power. Her eyes fell on the closest foot. Booted not shoed. She raised her eyes to study the leg, recognized the colors on the uniform, ones she had seen for years at the Hellfire Academy, and her mouth went dry.

Fuck, she thought, surprising herself. If I get out of this, she promised herself, I never, ever will be passive about anything so stupid as Justice and Thrash's plan again.

She raised her head a little more so she could see to whom the foot belong and how many people were in the van with her. It couldn't be, she thought, and she couldn't help the surprised gasp.

"Sir," someone said behind her, "She's awake."

"Can't have that," he said. The voice was different, but that face. "At least not yet," he continued.

Hands pulled her up and held gently but firmly against her struggles as a foul smelling rag was pressed over her mouth and nose. Slowly the world went black again.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 2

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them; I'm just borrowing them.

"Remove the restraints," a voice pushed its way though the dim haze in Firestar's mind. She kept her eyes closed and tried not to change her breathing.

"I don't think that is wise, sir," the voice from the van replied. Don't wince, she told herself sternly. It's not him.

"We need her cooperation. The restraints will make her less cooperative. Remove them."

"Sir, even should she be . . ."

"Now, Thomas," the command was ruined by a cough.

Firestar felt cool hands gently removed the restraints, felt the familiar tingle of getting in touch with her power. She opened her eyes, flicked on her power, causing Randall's double to back off quickly. He drew a gun and pointed it at her.

As if that would work, she thought as she took in her surroundings.

She was in what appeared to be a library, one of those that rich people in cliché movies had. What her father called Masterpiece Theater Library, with books more to be seen and not read, a library with all those old, red leather chairs and the kind of furniture people get when they don't have a cat.

A man sat in one chair. Though his face drooped and his body seemed on the verge of running to fat, he had the air of power and privilege, not just from the expensive ring on his hand or the fine cut of his clothes. Despite never having actually met him, Firestar knew from Thrash's files that this was Sebastian Shaw, Shinobi's father, the head of the Hellfire Club, the man who along with Frost had tried to turn her into an assassin. Her visor lay folded up on the table next to him, to the right of a glass and a bottle of pills.

"We should talk," Shaw stated, the words slightly slurred. He wondered if Emma had been completely honest in her reports about her former pupil. Studying the young woman in front of him, he concluded that their plans had been too limited in scope.

"Where am I? Where's Justice?" she demanded, her power pulsing so strongly that he could feel the temperature of the room rise. Her blue-green eyes studied Thomas. "Tell your man to put up his gun before I melt it into his hand."

"Thomas," Shaw spoke calmly, "Your bullets would be ineffective anyway."

Reluctantly, Thomas put his gun back in his holster.

Shaw picked up a remote from the table next to the chair and pointed it at the painting that hung on the wall across from them. He pressed a button and the painting slide up revealing a flat screen. Of course, he would have one of those, Firestar thought, and I bet the globe in the corner is one of those bar things. The screen clicked on, and Firestar's mouth went dry.

On the screen, her father, still recovering from his injury, hobbled over to his chair in the living room of their house. He turned on the game.

Firestar powered down, and her hands curled into fists.

"For now, he is safe. I, however, have a team on hand, should you prove difficult, and we can see if the odd adage of the third time being the charm rings true." Shaw placed the remote back on the table. "I need your cooperation."

"To do what?" She refused to look at him. Had this been the plan all along? Where was Vance, she thought as a wave of anger hit her. How dare they try this again!

"To re-gain control of the Hellfire Club and other parts of my empire," Shaw coughed.

Firestar turned slightly to face him, "Why me?"

"I need a show of loyal power," Shaw explained. "Guards such as Thomas," he gestured to the man who dipped his head slightly, "don't prove much. But someone such as yourself, especially someone with a family connection."

She blinked at him, "You must be joking."

"You know you are adopted, surely," Shaw picked up his glass and took a sip. He needed to take his medication soon, but he did not want to sure weakness.

Firestar did know; she had been told shortly before the death of her mother. Her birth mother had been a friend of the family who had died. The death of her mother and her grandmother, the manifestation of her powers, her years at the Academy, then the Warriors, the whole business with Vance and finally the second near fatal attack on her father had taken priority over any curiosity she had over her natural mother.

"Are you saying you're my mother?" she snapped, forcing her hands to unclench. She needed to think of a way out of this. She handled Frost and Mystique; she could handle Shaw.

Amused, Shaw allowed himself a small smile, "Hardly. There is a chance you are my daughter. Marissa was having relations with me shortly before she got pregnant."

Firestar resisted the urge to gag, "You get my cooperation, and my father is safe?"

Not what he had been expecting, Shaw replied, "You wound me. I tell you that you have a claim to my wealth, and you . . ."

"Being a sperm-donor doesn't make you a father," she interrupted, her temper finally frayed as she surprised herself. Nita would be proud she thought and that quick thought of her blue skinned friend, and her other friends, gave her strength.

"And a man who turned you over to Emma Frost for three years without a word is any better?" Shaw countered coolly. "But, yes, he and the families of your friends," he touched the remote once more. The picture on the screen divided. She now could see Chord, Rich's brother, and Robbie's parents. "Will be safe. Just help me regain control. Cooperate and they live. Do not or take me out, and my teams will kill them before you can save them." He turned off the screen.

"Where's Justice?" Firestar asked, trying to buy time.

Shaw shrugged, "Still with my worthless son, unless your team has intervened. If you're expecting a rescue, you will be sharply disappointed. Even my son has no idea who is behind this. Don't worry. I won't ask you to violate your precious principles. Once I have regained power, I will call off the teams and give you the locations of the cameras. The Hellfire Club will never bother you again, and you can return to your father."

Firestar bowed her head. She didn't say anything. What could she say? She didn't believe him, but for now she would have to play along and hope that he didn't see though it as easily as his son had seen though Vance.

Shaw took her silence for acquiescence, "You have the run of the house and grounds. You may go into the town provided that Mr. Chase," he interpreted her look. "You were close to his brother, I believe. You may go where you wish as long as Mr. Chase accompanies you. Rebel, attack Mr. Chase, his people, or myself and . . ."

"You have my father and the others killed," she finished for him. "I understand how this works."

Shaw coughed, "Mr. Chase will show you to your suite. The DNA results will be back in a few weeks."

As if, Firestar thought, she would still be here.

Nita walked out of the locker room and into the main area at the Crash Pad. Nova stood to the side watching as Justice hammered away at the computer. They had a found a tape showing the men who had taken Angel, but they had been unable to get anything helpful from it. The man had worn masks and had been smart enough to cover the license plate on their car. Justice had replayed the tape continuously, trying to find anything, finally giving up when Thrash mentioned trying to trace the money. Now, Justice was trying to break though the aliases and bank accounts that had been used to pay Shaw. He had been at it for the past few hours. Nita shared a long look with Nova who shrugged, "Thrash left a few minutes ago."

Nita scowled and turned towards Justice. "You should rest," She told him. "Or at least go and get something to eat." He looked older, she thought.

"I got some on the plane ride back," Justice said shortly as he ran a hand though his hair. He couldn't rest. Rest meant seeing Angel being carried out of Shaw's mansion when he closed his eyes. Rest meant telling Mr. Jones what had happened to Angel. He didn't want to have that conversation until he could offer hope. He didn't want to leave the computer until he could find some hope for himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 3

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them, and I am making no profit.

Thomas Chase led Firestar though the house, pointing out the kitchen, dining room, game room, and the door leading to the garage, which contained his own private apartment. They paused in the study where he showed her, though the wide windows, the outdoor pool and pointed out the dormitory (his word; hers was barracks) in what had been a carriage house. "You'll join us for practice," he said. It wasn't exactly a command, more of a statement of fact.

Walking alongside of him, Firestar wrapped her arms loosely around herself. All this would have been impressive if she wasn't being blackmailed, and if the man giving her the tour didn't look so much like Randall Chase. She kept having to tell herself it wasn't him.

"And this is your room," Thomas said as they stopped in front of a door on the second floor. He opened it and stepped inside a room large enough to contain her bedroom and the guest room at home. "TV, DVD, computer without internet access, so don't get your hopes up," Thomas pointed out; Firestar couldn't figure out if he was attempting to joke with her or torment her. Did he, she wondered, blame her for the death of his brother, a death that she at times blamed herself for.

"Bathroom," he continued, opening a door in the wall, revealing a bathroom that looked to be half the size of the bedroom. He walked over to the closest and opened that as well. "Master Shaw had Rachel, the cook, get some clothes for you. Mostly jeans and shirts. If anything doesn't fit," he looked her over as if he were taking her measurements. Suddenly, for some reason, she felt dirty. "Or if you need anything else," he continued. "Let Rachel know."

Wishing he would just leave so she could think, Firestar said, "I thought I was allowed to go into town."

"Not at first. When you prove your good behavior, we can go, Angelica," Thomas replied, putting emphasis on her name, "We can go to dinner and talk about Randall." A pained look crossed her face, and she looked down at the carpet, her hair hiding her face. Interesting, Thomas thought, she cared for him; perhaps it hadn't simply been an attack of conscience that prompted Randall to rebel. Thomas had believed that the young mutant would be arrogant, more like a mini-version of the White Queen. But she wasn't. He had seen real fear and worry in her eyes for her father and the families of her team mates, which made her more dangerous to Shaw. He looked her over again, wondering how much he could play on his similarity to his brother. She shifted from foot to foot, refusing to look at him. Nervous, he thought and took in the tense shoulders, and added angry.

One of his men knocked on the door. "Yes," he said, shifting his eyes from his charge.

"We have news about Shinobi," the guardsman held out the folder.

Dismissing the guard, Thomas felt her eyes on him as he took the folder and opened it. He scanned the report about the defeat of Shinobi the Idiot at the hands of X-Force and the Warriors then repressed the curse that rose as he looked at the last few pages. He warned Shaw against this, said it would be too risky. Shaw overruled him again. "It seems," he said coldly, "that your friends were too late." He held out the sheets. "I'm sorry," he finished and added some pity to his voice, "But Shinobi killed him shortly after you were delivered".

Firestar took the sheets from him, reading quickly until she saw the photo. He watched the blood drain from her face as she studied the doctored picture showing Justice dead, with a gaping hole in his chest and sightless eyes in bloody face.

"Get out," she shouted, shoving the papers at him, pushing him out of the room, and slamming the door in his face.

"If there is anything you need," he said and heard her fist hammer against the door.

Firestar sank to her knees on the plush carpet. Her stomach cramped painfully, she felt dizzy, unsteady, could feel the tears flow from her eyes. She wanted someone to feel the pain she felt at this moment. She glowed.

That, she knew, she could not do. She didn't want anyone else to die. She powered down.

Think, she told herself, biting her lip to keep from crying out. The image had burned itself into her mind; it was hard to think around its harsh read. She had seen death before, had felt the blood of a loved one on her hands. The photo looked like death.

Breathe, she told herself, gasping for air.

Vance could not be dead, she thought. The photo had to be doctored. Stupid, she told herself, to shove it back at Thomas. Should've kept it; should've studied it. But he can't be dead; they would've said something earlier. They had just done it to make her feel helpless and alone.

She half believed herself.

She scrunched the palms of hands into her closed eyes, biting the collar of her jacket to keep herself from screaming. Think, she told herself. If Vance is alive, they probably did something like this to make him think she was dead. If, she cringed but continued, if he was dead, then the others would undoubtedly think she was too. Either way, she was alone with no expectation of help. Okay, she told herself, I've been here before; therefore, I can do this. Her hands shook from rage and grief.

God, her poor father.

Shaking she forced herself to think though a plan. If she obeyed, then she could go to town, and eventually they would relax. Then she could call the others and once the Warriors took out the guards, she could deal with Shaw and Hellfire, finish them off forever. Until she could do that, she could find out what Shaw really wanted and disrupt it as much as she possibly could from the inside. Not much of a plan, she knew, but it was what she had at the moment.

He couldn't be dead, she thought, curling up in a ball on the carpet, crying as quietly as she could.

Bart Jones put out Pumpkin's food and stared into space as the big, orange cat chowed down. He worried about his daughter who five days ago had called and said she had to do something with the Warriors, and don't worry Dad.

Right. Don't worry. I'm recovering from being shot in the chest because someone wanted to get at the Warriors, and I'm not supposed to worry, he thought as Pumpkin ate like a starving wolf.

There was the sound the door being unlocked. Leaning on his cane, he moved as quickly as he could to the front of the house. "Angel?" he called out, frowning in disappointment when he saw only a tense Vance Astrovik, who looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "Where's my daughter?" Bart asked before the boy could say anything; a knot of ice formed in his stomach. "Where have you been?"

Vance closed the front door, "Sir," he began his eyes troubled.

"Is she okay?" Bart demanded.

"I believe so," Vance replied, hesitantly. He didn't know how to go forward, just knew that Bart had to be told. He didn't want to shock the older man, however.

"You believe so?" Bart's voice grew hot as he clutched his cane and took a step forward.

"Sir, sit down, and I'll explain. It won't do Angel any good if you tear out your stitches."

Vance moved a chair over with his mind, and Bart found himself sitting down. This must have been how his Ma had felt when he was in the army, Bart thought, knowing, at least, that his girl was not dead. He listened as Vance told him the whole story, how he and this Night Thrasher had decided to infiltrate something called the Upstarts, how Vance had lied to and walked out on Angel, how he had returned when the Upstarts went after Angel.

"You said what?" he snapped before he could stop himself when Vance told him about convincing Angel to give herself up, so his cover could be kept. Bart frowned and stared at the floor. He had misjudged the boy like he had misjudged Frost and failed Angel again. He listened as Vance told him about waking up and discovering Angel gone. He heard about the few leads, something about property, that Warriors had and were going to track down. He heard but mentally rejected Vance's apology. Finally, the boy stopped speaking.

Licking his chops, Pumpkin came out of the kitchen, hopped on the couch, and meowed at the two men.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House," Bart Jones spat.

Vance bowed his head. He had foreseen this. "Sir," he said as he rose," We'll get her back. I promise. I'll . . ."

"You promise?" Despite his recent injuries, Bart Jones rose to his full six feet plus becoming the sergeant he had once been. "Really? And I can trust your word?" His voice rose. "I let you into my home! I trusted you with my baby girl! You lied to me, to us! Worse, you used us! You knowingly turned her over to killers because it suited your perverted sense of justice, you cold hearted bastard! Now I'm suppose to believe you'll bring her back? How? In a body bag?" Bart shouted.

Vance winced. Pumpkin jumped off the couch and headed for safe ground.

His face pained, Vance moved to the door. He deserved this, he knew. "Sir," he tired one last time, unsure of what he would say. That it felt like his heart had been ripped out. That he hadn't been able to sleep. That if anyone harmed her, he would kill them. Perhaps to try to share the pain and worry they both felt.

"You knew about Frost," Bart hissed. "And still you . . . Get out now!" Bart shouted, swinging the cane. The blow, never intended for Vance, stuck the wall, leaving a large dent. Bart pushed Vance though the door, "When Angel gets back, if you ever so much as look at her, I'll kill you myself!" He slammed the door shut.

Breathing heavily, Bart leaned against the door, listening as Vance slowly left the porch. He waited until his anger only simmered before hobbling for his phone. He had kept up with his service buddies, some of whom who were in the government. Frost had found Angel; therefore, he reasoned, there had to be a way to find mutants. If the government didn't have it; someone must know who does. Maybe someone who could hook him up with this Professor Xavier who was on the news so often.

He would get his baby back.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 4

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: I am not making any profit

Firestar took out the door and dove down into the tunnel suspended from the ceiling. The hardest part of these so called training sessions was holding back when she so much wanted to cut loose and destroy everything. A stream of fire flashed into the tunnel. She paused, hovering for a few seconds, then with a shrug, burned her way up and out of the metal structure determined to conflict the next challenge.

Dressed in his gear, Thomas Chase watched the training session with a slight frown. Since her imprisonment, Angelica had attended the training sessions without complainant, even joining his men for their morning run, something that half exasperated him for her presence forced his men to wear their masks; on the other hand, the men pushed themselves more so not to be left behind by a girl. He believed she used the run as a way to get use to his resemblance to Randall. Where Shaw judged her too be compliant, Thomas knew she only seemed to be. He studied her when she viewed the feed of her father. She bite her lip and studied the picture, trying, he knew, to determine how much editing had occurred. The only time they had was when Justice had visited Mr. Jones; too much more, Shaw said, and it would tell.

Time, Thomas thought, to provoke her and see some of that anger from that first night. Every day he tried rattling her cage with a comment about Randall, but she never took the bait, brushing him off or burying her head in a book. Time to try something different.

Out of the tunnel, Firestar faced a fast moving pendulum. She ducked under the swinging axe, came around, and easily burned it away from the pole, causing it to crash to the floor of the training room. She flew under the jet of flame that came as the man carrying the flame thrower moved around the tunnel to attack her. She melted the tunnel so that it imprisoned the man. A short distance to cover and then she would reach the buzzer to end the session.

Suddenly the floor opened up, and elevator with Thomas rose out of it. He was covered in blood exactly like Randall during that last day at the Academy. Firestar felt a flash of raw anger. Bad enough her father and the families of her friends held hostage, now this ass wanted to play head games. Her first powerful blast destroyed the floor elevator, leaving nothing. Thomas landed awkwardly on the floor. He barely dodged her next blast which left a gaping hole in the floor. He fired off a few shots from his own weapon. She dodged them easily and circled around. He moved quickly a platform. She fired off few blasts and then slammed into him. They crashed to the floor. The shook took her breath away and brought her senses back.

She felt his arms encircle her waist, and then tighten as one hand move down to her butt while the other moved up to her breasts.

Pervert, she thought, and punched him hard in the stomach before she could stop herself.

He let go with a painful groan, and she rose once more into the air, melting the floor around him, before hitting the buzzer and ending the session.

As he got his breath back, Thomas could feel the heat from the floor around him. She hadn't held back on that punch. Apparently she didn't like the feel of his arms around her or his portrayal as Randall. "That's it gentlemen and lady," he called out as he rose to his feet. "Hit the showers." He made his way over to the room's computers. Firestar followed him. "Keep performing like that in the sessions, and Master Shaw will let you accompany us to town quite soon," he told her.

"Don't ever do that again," she shot back.

Thomas paused in the shot down sequence. Had the relationship with Randall been deeper than quasi sibling? "What? The blood or copping a feel?"

"Both," she demanded, her skin flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"It's possible that an enemy of Master Shaw will try something like that; you should be prepared," he turned back to the computer.

"I doubt they'll do anything like it!"

"You didn't enjoy it then? Did you like my brother better? Perhaps if you told me his technique, I could copy it," he finished with the computer and turned back to her. "It's been a long time since you've been with Justice, hasn't it? With his stint in jail and then the Upstarts. You must be lonely. That was just my way of letting you know I'm here for you, like my brother was."

Hands clenched, she took a step forward before she could stop herself. "You're nothing like either of them," she hissed.

He smiled to see the anger. "True. You should shower before dinner with Master Shaw. We can continue this conversation then; personally I would love to hear Randall's last words."

Her face paled, but she left without a word.

Shaking slightly, Angelica made her way back to her suite. In the almost two weeks she had been a prisoner; her days had fallen into a pattern. A morning jog, followed by an uncomfortable breakfast with Thomas, then free time or was schooled in etiquette by Rachel the cook, then it was lunch with more free time followed by a training session with Thomas, and then dinner with Shaw. She kept busy during the day, memorizing the layout of the property or studying. She was always watched, always followed, except, possibly, in the suite. There, she didn't know. She had found an old tape recorder and run it over the walls looking for bugs, like the hero had done in an old detective novel of Nana's. There had been no high pitched whine, but with technology constantly changing who knew.

The nights, however, were the hardest for then she couldn't hide from the fear, sorrow, and worry. She knew Vance must be dead for why else wasn't he a hostage like her father. At night she mourned him, plotted revenge, and worried about her father. She slept in snatches, and only felt safe after she pushed the dresser in front of the door.

She never felt so alone, not even in those long years at the Academy.

She discovered a hidden strength, however. While part of her mourned and worried, a stronger part plotted and developed plans, like being nice to Rachel, and noting that the news on the television meant that she was in somewhere in Colorado. Angelica entered her suite, grabbed a pen from the desk, and a fresh set of clothes. She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She hated the fact there was no lock.

She opened the wall cabinet and removed a box of maxi pads. She opened the box from the bottom and pulled out a pad. This she opened and removed a piece of paper hidden inside. She wrote down the codes that Thomas had used for the computer underneath the code to the garage. Hidden in various pads and in the box of tampons was the information she had been able to gather: a map showing the layout of the house and as much as the property she had seen, sketches of the guards whose faces she had been able to see, and other codes to various computers, even some in some cases, user passwords.

She could do something soon. When she got to town, she would try to call or failing that send out a letter. She wouldn't risk the information, but she had stolen an envelope and stamp from the desk in the library. She didn't know yet, but trying to plot a way to let the others know kept her busy. She needed to be kept busy.

She put the pad carefully back and got ready for her shower.

Robbie and Vance exited the plane and walked across the tarmac. A stream of cursing caught Vance's attention. A man stood over his luggage as a hapless airport worker began to gather up the spilled contents of a suitcase. The worker snatched at a red and blue uniform and shoved it quickly back into the suitcase.

"Not like that fool," the man cursed.

Wait, Vance thought, taking a second look at the uniform. Finally, after days of slow going, they had some luck. "Follow him," he whispered to Robbie. "I'll get the rental car."

Vance and Robbie trailed after the car, keeping a discrete distance. It didn't seem like they had been noticed. "You sure he's Hellfire?" Robbie asked.

"The uniform matches, and he's heading towards the property we traced," Vance replied, his eyes never leaving the road.

"She could be at one of the other places or at none of them. We're guessing," Speedball pointed out. "Even with the team split up, it's going to take days to scope everything. Even with Thrash's . . ."Robbie stopped as he saw Vance's hands had tightened on the steering wheel. The bouncing wonder remembered the fight that Thrash and Vance had when Thrash suggested they find a replacement for Firestar. Vance had accused Thrash of not trying hard enough to find 'Star. Thrash had retorted that everyone was delusional and guilt ridden, but then had relented and arranged for the flights to check out leads.

With a frown, Vance nodded, "You're right. Unless . .. " Suddenly the car in front of them slide off the road and into a ditch. The man stumbled from the car. As they pulled in behind him, Vance took out the man with a telekinetic punch.

"What are you doing?" Robbie asked as they got out of the car.

Vance didn't answer. He ignored the fallen man, opened the trunk, pulled out the suitcase and began rifling though it.

"Vance!!" Robbie demanded.

"We need information," his friend replied.

"We don't know if he knows anything."

"I don't think he does. This looks like some kind of reference," Vance read though the documents and then frowned. "If he's new, I can take his place."

"What? They'll know."

"Not if I keep a mask on. There is a reason why these are standard issue," Vance pulled the uniform out the suitcase and stepped behind the car. "Faceless is preferred."

"It won't work. I know you're worried about Angel and think it's your fault," this last came out as a mumble and Robbie looked down at the ground. "But this plan is . . ." he fished for the right words. "It's something that Rich would do."

"Sometimes Rich is right," Vance countered. "We'll get more information if we can get someone inside. Even if she's not here, maybe I can find out where she is. She's been gone for two weeks. A prisoner for two weeks, Robbie! Have you even thought about what they could be doing to her? We need to stop messing around." His clothes were thrown on the hood of the car. "Do you have a better idea?"

Speedball shook his head, "Doesn't mean that . . . We don't even know who is behind this!"

"Call Nova. He can get here quickly and help you with him. You guys question him," Vance pulled on the mask. "I'll call soon," he said as he maneuvered the car back onto the road. He got in and drove off.

Robbie looked down at the unconscious man. Great, Vance was acting like Rich. Next, Thrash would want to do camp fire sing alongs.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 5

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them; I'm just playing around.

As Vance drove the car up the road, the ramifications of his hasty plan came home, but with that new fear came the strange assurance that this plan was the right thing to do. Suddenly, he pulled over to the shoulder and got the suitcase out of the car. He rummaged though it. There, he _had _seen it. He took out the hair dye, and darkened his hair. Maybe, he thought darkly, this guardsman was also hiding something. He hoped that Nova and Nita could get some information.

He got back in the car and drove up to the mansion. The road straightened out and led to a gatehouse where a cliché guard lounged. Vance stopped and handed his papers to the guard. The man studied the papers and then looked towards Vance, who forced himself to stay relaxed. "You want to see Thomas Chase when you reach the house," the guard said as he handed back the papers before waving Vance though the gates. Vance nodded. His shoulders slumped in relief as he drove up the drive, taking note of the placement of the cameras. The drive led to a mansion with a pool and a carriage house. Vance parked the car, got out, and looked around. A man came out of the house and circled around the pool heading towards Vance. "You," he shouted, "You're the new man, aren't you? Ralph Iston?"

"It's Ralph Linton, sir," Vance corrected wondering if the mispronunciation had been a test. He hoped there wasn't a secret handshake.

The man nodded, "I'm Thomas Chase. Master Shaw's lieutenant." He shook Vance's head. "This way."

As Vance wondered if Thomas Chase was related to Angel's Randall, the man in question led him to the garage and then up a flight of stairs to an apartment that also housed an office. "These are my quarters," Chase said taking a seat behind the functional but highly unstable desk in the front room and gesturing for Vance to sit down in the opposing chair. Chase leaned back in his chair and studied the papers to a far greater degree than the guard at the gate had down.

"Everything seems to be in order, "Thomas frowned slightly though. "Any reason for the glasses?"

"My eyes are sensitive to light, sir" Vance replied. He wanted to wear the glasses as much as possible, anything to make him look other than he was; however, he took them off. Wearing them too much might make Thomas overly suspicious.

Thomas now gave Vance his full attention, and the Warrior worried that he had been recognized. "This problem" Thomas asked, "Is not going to interfere with your duties?"

"No, sir. It's nothing like that. Mostly just outside light."

"Humph," Thomas turned back to the papers. In truth, given Master Shaw's fall from power, there were so few people they could use that at this point they would take just about anything. "You will have to wear your mask anytime you leave your barracks, unless Master Shaw or I tell you otherwise. We are housing a reluctant guest of interest to Master Shaw. While she is to be treated with respect, we do not want her to leave the grounds unattended or use any phone. We prefer that she sees the guardsmen as faceless, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Who is she?" Vance couldn't resist asking.

"You would know her as Firestar," Thomas replied. "Is anything wrong?"

Mentally cursing himself, Vance shook his head, "It's just that everyone's heard about what she did to the White Queen."

Thomas let out a harsh bark of laughter. "You're working for the ousted head of the Hellfire club who's engaged in a power struggle, and you're worried about a girl?"

"The rumor sir. . ."

"Is true. But we have her controlled. She disobeys; we kill her father and the families of her friends. We monitor them, you see. Should she try to gain access to the cameras, stop her and inform myself or Master Shaw. Make sure that any news she sees does not contain information about the Warriors. We have told her that Justice is dead and do not want her to discover otherwise. You will be required to train with her, for Master Shaw is going to need all of us to regain control. Is this a problem?" He stared at Vance.

"No, sir. Everything is clear sir."

"Good. I'll show you where you bunk."

**Evening**

Angelica sat at the end of the dinning room table and watched Shaw cut his steak. His hands shook more today, she noted, far more than yesterday. Once again, she wondered what illness gripped him. There were no books in his library that had been able to help her. She noticed, as well, that on days when Shaw was sicker, Thomas was grouchier.

"According to Thomas, you are progressing quite well," Shaw said suddenly, breaking the standard and uncomfortable silence that usually reigned over dinner.

Angel glanced at Thomas. "It would be easier if I knew what you wanted me to do," Angel pushed the food around her plate. It always tasted of ash, but if she didn't eat, there would be threats. Even now she could feel Thomas's angry eyes on her. She took a bite of food.

"You'll know soon. Perhaps next week."

Angel looked up from her plate. "And after that?"

Shaw frowned, "We'll see, daughter."

The word didn't sound right coming from him. Angel put down her fork. "You got the tests back?"

Shaw picked up a glass, nodded, "I still have enough money to rush things along." He took a slip of his drink. Not alcohol, Angel thought, for there was never any sign of wine bottles or decanters at this table. Once, she had been able to get a sniff of it and couldn't place the smell. "The tests confirm what I believed. You are in fact my daughter." Shaw continued.

She felt Thomas's eyes on her, could feel his smirk. The news at first put a pit of cold in her stomach, but that swiftly melted to be replaced as anger. He thought that would change things? Nothing changed, and Shaw had to be lying. She sensed though that Shaw was waiting for something, anything. "I watched that show on Rembrandt's _Night Watch_," she said, referring to the DVD Shaw had given her a few days ago.

Now Shaw gave her his full attention, "And what did you think daughter?"

She couldn't stop the wince that the last word caused, "That I would've liked to know a bit more about the young girl in the painting, like why she has a chicken. I liked the whole thing about rolling it during World War Two."

Shaw looked like a master whose pet dog had performed a trick. He then quizzed her, not only about the program and the painting, but about art history in general and her views on current theory. Sometimes, she noticed a slight nod when she made a point or countered a point he made. She hoped that he thought this was some form of bonding, maybe than she could get a little more freedom. "Perhaps, "he said finally, "We'll go to Amsterdam and see it."

It was the way he said; as if he were giving her a reward for a job well done that irked her. Surely, he didn't fully buy the act, but she kept quiet. If they were to travel, her chances of contacting someone multiplied.

Suddenly, Shaw let out a large fit of coughing. He reached out a shaky hand for his glass, but knocked the elegant goblet over. Shaw doubled over in his chair, shaking violently as he coughed. Thomas quickly rose and went to the sideboard, where he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle. He righted the glass and poured some of the contents into it. He knelt beside Shaw and gently pressed the glass to Shaw's lips. He gestured for Angel to leave.

Lost in thought, Angelica hurried out of the room and stumbled into a guardsman. The man grasped her arms to steady her. She looked up at him. She thought the eyes widened behind the mask. He squeezed her arms gently before he tried to pull her closer.

What was with everyone, she thought angrily as she yanked her arms from his grasp, pushed past him and hurried off, strangely shaken by the encounter.

Shaking, Vance turned to watch her go. He had never seen anyone look so alone

**Next Day**

"That's it," Thomas shouted. "Firestar and Team A you can hit the showers. Team B, you need more practice." Distracted by worries about Shaw, Thomas turned and began to go over Team B's additional exercise.

Angelica watched as the other men walked out of the practice room. No one was watching her at the moment. As she left, she stood next to the computer and behind a few guardsmen. She quickly entered a code, followed by a program sequence and a timer as she once seen Thomas do. Hopefully that would keep them distracted long enough for her to enter the barracks.

Angelica stepped out the house and looked around. No one was around. She made her way quickly over to the barracks where the guardsmen slept. She circled the building, making sure there was a second door. She flashed the keypad lock, temporary scrambling it long enough for her to get inside. The first room was a common room with a huge flat scan TV, fridge, coaches, chairs, and a computer, but no land line phone. She turned on the computer and frowned when it asked her for a username and password. She tried the code she had used on the practice room computer. It didn't work. "Damn," she whispered and entered the bunk room

Bunks with lockers on the side made up the entire room. She opened first locker, quickly shuddering at the pin up that greeted her. She didn't know what she was looking for, and then, the next locker had a cell. She stared at the small phone. Excited and hopeful, she picked it up and then stopped. What if the user discovered the call? What of he connect it to her? If he did, what would Thomas and Shaw do to her father and the others? Could she risk it? She dithered.

The keypad to the front door sounded.

She cursed. Put the phone back in the locker, closed it quickly. Then hurried to the back door. Stupid she told herself.

Vance entered the dorm and walked to his locker. He had forgotten his cell phone, something that he should not have done, but discovering Angel here, and seeing her this morning without being able to say anything, to watch her struggle and look so alone, had thrown him. He opened his locker and frowned. His phone had been moved. He turned and looked out the window, and saw Angel go back into the house.

He smiled, perhaps Jack hadn't deserved the chewing out he received for the fault programing of the practice room computer.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 6

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them. I am making no profit.

Note: Thanks to Pygmalion, Nebs, and Myth.

Nova ignored Silhouette's glare and kept drumming his fingers on the table in the Crash Pad. C'mon Supertights, he thought, pick up the damn phone. From behind, he could hear Speedball's pacing and the tapping of Nita's foot. What was Vance thinking, Nova continued with his internal rant, going off half cock was his trademark.

The phone rang.

Speedball and Nita tripped over each other as they raced towards the phone. "Ouch!" Silhouette cried out as her head collided with Nova's. Thrash reached down and pressed the speaker button on the phone. "Well?" the Warrior's leader demanded, earning him a dirty look from Nova.

"She's here," Justice's voice said.

Nova let out a whoop as he picked up Nita and swung her around. Sil and Speedball exchanged a high five.

"Don't get too excited," Justice interrupted and the celebrations stopped. Justice quickly filled the others in on Shaw's insurance plan of holding their families hostage for Firestar's good behavior.

"We need to find these bastards," Nova snarled.

"We need better secret idenitiies, "Speedball added morosely.

"Does Firestar have any ideas?" Thrash asked calmly.

Cold bastard, Nova thought angrily. This whole thing is his fault, and he doesn't' have any family to lose. He doesn't even look relieved.

"I don't know," Justice replied in a tense voice. "She's watched all the time, so I haven't been able to speak to her. They've told her that I was dead."

"What does Shaw want?" Nita asked, her hands rested on Nova's shoulders.

"This Thomas Chase didn't say. You guys need to find about him. I think Firestar was trying to contact us earlier. I should be able to talk to her tomorrow." Vance paused. "Look, I've got to go."

"We'll see what we can find out. We won't move until you've checked," Thrash said and then added almost apologetically. "Perhaps the Upstarts was a front for something else."

"You think?" Justice hung up.

**Next Day**

"We are going out this evening," Shaw announced from his seat in the library. The beefy man almost looked happy.

"Where?" Angel asked. Her eyes finally left the screen as the painting covered the screen that a few minutes ago had shown her father. Until twenty minutes along, she had lived in fear that somehow Thomas had discovered her tampering of the practice room computer. She tried not to appear nervous, but she felt covered in a nervous sweat and constantly wanted to wipe her hands on her jeans. Thomas, however, didn't look angry, just, strangely, interested.

"A small gathering, given by a member of the Hellfire Club. It is time to display some power, enough to remind people that rumors of my death are nothing but rumors," Shaw paused and examined his fingernails for a moment. "You will stay close; your purpose is to show support and obedience," he looked at her and saw her nod. Shaw gestured to Thomas who brought forward a long white box. "You'll need to dress appropriately."

Angel took the box from Thomas and opened it. She studied the outfit that lay inside. "Where's the rest of it?" she asked, her ponytail swishing as she looked up. She couldn't wear that; her all together would be hanging out.

Thomas let out a bark of laughter.

Shaw rose to his feet and looked over in the box. "Everything's there. The color suits you."

"I can't wear this," Angel replied.

"Rachel can make any needed alterations."

"I'll look like I belong in some strange sex club," Angel blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Don't knock it until you try it," Thomas smirked. "I could arrange for . . ."

"Thomas!" Shaw's voice cut off the rest of the remark but lacked any real heat, and Angel wondered why Chase had such a free rein. "It is standard for the Club. Surely, you saw Frost wear something similar." Shaw finished. "You're not a queen, so color means little."

Precisely, Angel thought, and that's part of the reason why I don't want to wear it. "Look," she tried. "I'll wear anything else. Just not this. You said that I wouldn't have to comprom . . "

Suddenly, Shaw hit her across the face. The force of the blow knocked her off the chair. She landed on her knees, grasping from the shock and pain. She saw Thomas' feet move as he came forward. "You will do what you are told!" Shaw roared as he stood above her. She felt his weight shift as if he were about to deliver another blow. She dug her hands into the carpet. She couldn't fight back, not with her father under threat.

"Sir," Thomas said calmly. "Perhaps she has a point."

"Explain yourself," Shaw growled.

"If you adhere too much to old ways, it could show weakness. A slight adjustment to the outfit, leather pants, the kind with laces on the side, is not too much of a change and could be seen as a willingness to adapt," Thomas looked down at Angel. "And sir, with all due respect, if she is bruised, it doesn't show solidarity or a believable ability to rule your own children."

Shaw took a deep breath, "You," he said to Angel. "Can wear something more modest. But cross me, disappoint me, or fail me in anyway tonight, and you will not like you next see on the screen." Shaw left the room with a curse.

Thomas reached down and, to her surprise, gently took hold of her arm and helped her to feet. "You could thank me," he said as he reached out and raised her chin.

"Thank you," she mumbled, casting her eyes down as Thomas studied her face.

"It will bruise," Thomas concluded as he let go of her chin then let down her hair to see if it could hid the mark. "Make sure that you cover it well. I'll send Rachel up later to help you get ready. She'll bring the pants." He pulled the black leather corset from the box and handed it to her. "At least you won't need padding."

Angel blushed angrily and turned to go. Thomas reached out quickly and held her back. "Two things," he said. "First, good control when Master Shaw hit you."

"My father would've been killed. I care, unlike some people," Angel interrupted.

Thomas smiled, "True. I think I underestimated you."

Great, Angel thought, he's going to tighten up security.

"Second," Thomas continued. "Should you deicide to taste those strange sexual delights, my door is always open. Just wear the original costume."

Tired of these weird come on from him, designed, she believed, simply to make her feel uncomfortable, Angel snapped. "I don't think you're man enough." Nita would be so proud.

"Considering that your last man was nothing but a foolish boy, I doubt that very much," Thomas countered. He licked his lips, "Perhaps I'll show you later." He pushed her towards the door. "See you tonight," he finished as she left the room. With a slight frown, he pulled out his phone.

Angel entered her suite and threw the leather corset on the bed. She slammed the door behind her. Someone grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides as a hand covered her mouth before she could scream. She tried to bring her foot down on the person's instep, but before she could do that or flame up, a voice, a well loved voice, whispered in her ear, "On our first date, I picked you up on my bike. We went to the Boardwalk. A long drive, but with the way you held on to me, I wanted to make the night last. On the way back, the bike got a flat, and we flew back, just in time for your curfew. The next day, we laughed because a picture of my bike, floating in mid-air, was in the paper."

Then the arms around her loosened. Shaking, she turned and stared at the man in the guardsman uniform, the mask hanging from his belt. She reached and gently brushed his darkened hair away from his blue eyes. His eyes. "They . . . he said . . . you were . . . there was a photo," she choked out.

"I'm not," Vance said simply as his eyes studied her face in turn, his arms holding her close as his lips brushed her forehead. "You're not."

Her knees buckled. Easily, he picked her up and seated them on the edge of the bed, holding her in his lap. "You're alive," she murmured, her hands resting on his chest. "You're alive," she repeated as she kissed the line of his jaw, then his cheek. Finally, his lips found hers.

Please, she thought, this can't be a dream. She became aware of his soft voice "It's me" as his lips kissed away her tears and then claimed her mouth again.

Vance pulled away to study her face. He touched her cheek lightly and felt her wince, "This?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"Shaw. He . . . "

"Did he do anything else?" his voice filled with concern and anger. "Has he done it before?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "He wanted me to wear," he could feel the heat of her blush though his fingers. She gestured towards the corset, "That and a pair of leather bikini bottoms. It would be like wearing my underwear in public. He changed it to a pair of pants."

Vance looked at the leather on the bed. An image of her dressed in the outfit, complete with the bikini bottoms, flashed though his mind. Despite the situation, his groin tightened. "I think," he began and then had to swallow. "I can see why you wouldn't want to wear it in public." He kissed her nose. "But maybe when it's just the two of us?"

She punched him lightly in the chest. "How did you get here?"

Quickly, he told her about the Warrior's search for her and how they had finally discovered various properties. He glossed over his encounter with her father, ending with his impulsive plan.

"That was risky," she commented at the end. "If they had . . . "

"Not as stupid and as risky as the previous one," Vance cupped her face. "I'm sorry for that."

"It's not just your fault. I should've said something."

"Still," He rested his forehead against hers for a moment unable to put his thoughts into words. "I've contacted the others, told them what the deal is; they're going to figure out how Shaw is keeping tabs on everyone. Do you know what he wants?"

"He says he's my father," she replied softly.

"Does he have any proof?"

"Nothing I believe," she leaned against him as his hands stroked hair. "He wants my help to get his power back." She shifted in his lap, her hands once more on his chest as if his physical presence was something she still didn't quite believe. "He's not well. His hands shake, and he has these coughing fits. Sometimes he seems weak. He takes something for it, but I'm not sure what."

"Okay. I'll tell the others. Maybe Turbo will help out and find something." He thought for a moment. "I know where Shaw is taking you tonight. It's in Denver. I still don't have enough access. Once . . . "

"I've got many of the codes," Angel interrupted, clasping his hand as she rose from his lap. She pulled him to the bathroom to show him.

He watched her take the information from its hiding place. "You're right. A man wouldn't think to look here." His blue eyes held a great deal of pride. "You did that surprise for the practice session."

She nodded, "Thomas might figure it out though. In some ways, he's more dangerous than Shaw."

"I'll take these," Vance picked up the few sketches of the guardsmen that Angel had done. "I can go into town and fax them to the Warriors. He's Randall's brother then?"

"Yes," she replied. "But there is something strange between him and Shaw," Angel continued as she watched Vance add the access information from the barracks computer. "It's like they're equals or even sometimes," She shook her head. "Chase can say things; do things that Shaw would punish in another guardsman." Hands shaking, she began to pack up the information

Vance picked up on her tone of voice. He reached out and gently took her hand. "At night?"

"I push the dresser in front of the door," she finished for him, and it was then he saw the extent of her exhaustion.

He hugged her, almost clutching her to him. Angel leaned him into. "I don't want to let you go," she whispered. "It's like a dream."

"Do you want to know a secret?" he asked. "If it was just the two us in a hotel room, I would ravish you."

"Ravish?" she smiled.

"Ravish. Most definitely ravish," he toyed with her hair. "I need to leave before they miss me or notice the slight change in camera angle."

"I know." Don't cry, she told herself.

They left the bathroom and walked to the door of the suite. Vance kissed her forehead. "I'll make it here tomorrow." His hand rested on the door knob. They kissed. "You're not alone," he finished before pulling on his mask and leaving the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 7

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them, and I'm making not profit.

This couldn't be her, Angel thought as she studied her reflection in the mirror. The dark leather highlighted her red hair and her blue eyes. The corset pushed her breasts up and left her mid-section bare. The pants, though more modest than the bikini bottoms, hugged her curves and lent very little to the imagination. Even her spandex costume didn't feel quite as revealing; it was functional, not sexual.

Not like this outfit at all.

Next to her, Rachel took a step back and nodded in satisfaction at the intricate hairstyle, a mixture of braids and loose hair held in place by jeweled combs. "There," the older woman said, sounding like she walked off the set of Nana's _Upstairs, Downstairs_. "It'll do the master proud." She adjusted a comb slightly.

Angel said nothing. Despite wishing she had more of Nita's self confidence, Angel never fully understood why her friend insisted upon wearing a swimsuit when the Warriors didn't do that much fighting in water. Of course, Nita had the figure to pull of the style.

But this reflection staring back at her, it couldn't be her, Angel thought. Nita was the sexy one, not her. Not that she had ever felt ugly, just never as attractive or as sexual as Nita and always somehow in the other woman's shadow. And yet, dressed like this, Angel felt sexy, attractive, like she could give Nita a run for her money. Was this quasi-powerful feeling the reason why her friend wore the swimsuit?

"You should go," Rachel said, holding up the black fur lined cape. "Master Shaw doesn't like being kept waiting.

Shaw greeted Angel with a grunt. He said nothing but gave her the briefest of looks before gesturing for her to follow him. As they left the house, Angel drew the cloak more tightly around her. Ahead, she could see Thomas, dressed in a suit and looking as suave as a Sean Connery James Bond, standing by the limo and giving orders to two guardsmen. She hoped that one of them was Vance.

With a grin, Thomas held open the door to the limo. "Very nice, I must admit."

Angel said nothing as she slid into the car, sliding as far away from Shaw as she could. Once Thomas took his seat in the front of the car, they were off with the two guardsmen in the SUV behind.

For the course of the entire trip, Angel stared at the window, trying to figure out where exactly the mansion was located. She felt Thomas' bemused on her eyes, but neither man said anything or made any move to stop her It was the quietest road trip she had ever been on, even Dad would sing along to the radio every now and then. Shoot, even Dad turned on the radio.

Over an hour outside Denver, she thought as they entered the city. Finally they pulled up to a high class hotel. No doubt, Angel thought, one of those hotels with such an exclusive cliental that advertising constituted the greatest insult. Shaw finally looked at her. "Stay close to myself or Thomas, tonight." He studied her for a minute more and then exited the car. As she reached the door of the car, a guardsman offered his hand to help her out of the car. As she took it, he gave her hand a slight squeeze. Vance, she thought, relaxing a little and giving his hand a slight squeeze in return.

The small group entered the hotel and made their way quickly though the lobby. Staff scurried to Shaw asking him if he was going to spend the night, offering the best suites, telling him that Sir Francis and Lindon had arrived. "Should your lady need anything," the concierge said. "Just let us know." Shaw accepted it as his due, nodding or answering in the negative. He pressed a large bill into the concierge's hand when they reached the private elevator.

A short ride later the doors to the elevator opened. The large room housed too few people, it seemed to her after a few seconds, and mostly men, mostly old men Angel amended quickly, dressed like they had walked out of one those old Vincent Price movies, where Price played the lecherous old count or whatever. She could make out a few women, a very few, and all dressed like Frost. One woman was dressed all in black and seemed a bit tipsy as she tried to dance in time to the music. Even Angel hadn't wobbled in her heels quite like that.

Shaw noticed her gaze, "The Black Queen, like Emma was the White." Seeing her start, he added, "But the new Black Queen, not Selene whom Frost would've had you kill. Selene has had problems with the X-Men. I'll feel sorry for Beatrice should Selene return, despite the fact that she helped my son." Shaw nodded at Thomas who removed the clock from Angel's shoulders. "Come," Shaw said offering her his arm. She took it gingerly.

They made their way into the room. Angel felt every eye on them. "Look," one man whispered to another. "Shaw. He's not dead."

"Who's that with him?"

"Thomas Chase."

"I know that you drunken fool," the man hiccupped himself. "I meant the girl? A prostitute?"

_Smack_. "His daughter, you fool."

"He has a daughter? Well, at least she got all the looks."

_Smack._

"Would you stop hitting me?"

"It's for your own good. She's a mutant, almost killed Frost. Try anything and you won't have to worry about Shaw killing you."

"So you're saying I should get her flowers first?"

"Idiots," Shaw murmured, picking a flute of champagne and handing it to her before taking one for him. They had stopped at the buffet, if food that rich could be called a buffet. "But at least, our display is working." He piled some food on a plate. "This is mostly an informal party. Old timers and their children, or heirs. Like the fool." He nodded in approval at her still filled glass. "Good. Shinobi always drank too much at these things. I need you aware."

"Aware for what?" she asked though her dry mouth.

"For anything," Shaw turned his attention to two men who sat at a nearby table. "Come. Just keep doing what you're doing, and tomorrow you may see your father twice."

Strange, Shaw seemed in such a good mood. He was almost loathsome instead of detestable, Angel thought.

"Sebastian," one of the men said as they approached the table. "I'm glad to see you are still alive. There were all these unpleasant rumors about patricide."

"Rumors, Lindon, only that," Shaw slipped his drink.

"Due to the Upstarts," the second man, fatter wider, added. "Silly fool, think they have us beat. Already taking each other down so I hear." He turned a lecherous eye on Angel. "And who is this vision? Emma's replacement? Or your rumored daughter?"

"_My daughter_, Angelica," Shaw replied. "Far more powerful and obedient than my son."

"Emma's Angelica?" the lecher raised an eyebrow. "You have made a major coup. " He turned to Angel, "I'm Francis, my dear," he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. A gesture that would have been far courtlier if he hadn't been staring at her bosom the whole time. "Should you need anything . . . "

"She's not for the likes of you," Shaw interjected drawing Francis' attention for the briefest of moments before the man shrugged. "She's my daughter; not your toy."

"As you say," Francis said. "But you've lost the most power; you'll have to do the most to regain it."

A challenge.

"Have I?" Shaw countered. "Then it's good that I have already set the wheels in motion."

"A plan" Lindon smiled. "And your son?"

"Has already lost the power he so briefly held." Shaw put his glass down on the table and took the empty seat. "Angelica, why don't you and Thomas enjoy the music?"

Thomas took hold of her elbow and gently led her away. "Master Shaw's conversation is for him at this point." He pulled her on to the dance floor. "Our job," he whispered, sliding one arm around her waist and pulling her uncomfortably close, "Is to show a united front. Now," he continued as they moved to the music. "Isn't this nice?"

"No," she whispered, trying not to appear too tense as his hand moved lower on her back.

He chuckled and then leaned closer, looking as if he were to nuzzle her neck. "We must look like the happy couple." He kissed her neck. She felt a sudden urge to bolt. "Just pretend I'm Justice unless you've forgotten him already "

"Why are you such a . . ." she paused searching for the correct word.

"I believe the word you want is prick," he pulled her closer. "The death of my brother?" he offered.

"Frost did that. Why would you even work for . . ." Angel began angrily.

"You made him weak," he interrupted her. "Frost's special pupil. Randall knew better. Attractive toy that you are, Randall knew better and paid the price for forgetting that."

Her eyes widen in disbelief, "You." she started.

The sudden pressure of his lips against hers made her want to gag. Her nails dug into his hand. She wanted to bite him, but he took his time, as if he were trying to taste her. The only good thing she could say was that he had brushed his teeth.

Finally, it ended. "But the real reason is I'm just a prick," he concluded and dipped her.

From his station at the door, Vance saw Thomas kiss Angel, saw her back stiffen, the curling of her hands, and felt the urge to toss Thomas though the window. He settled for asking Phillip, the other guardsman a question. "Thomas can do that?"

Phillip looked away from the succulent food. "I guess so. Chase always gets the breaks. First the White Queen took an interest in him, and then Shaw. Doesn't seem fair, does it, that he gets the nice piece of tail."

"Frost?" Vance asked as Angel disentangled herself from Thomas.

"Before your time. One very black, widowish woman," Phillip studied the tipsy Beatrice. "Not the same really without her around."

Then the lights went out.

A shot fired.

A woman screamed.

Firestar's light quickly shone of the blackness, illuminating much of the room. Vance blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust and then quickly took stock. Angel was okay. Thomas, damm him, was okay. What was happening?

There, eight armed men, dressed in dark and light blues heading for Shaw. A sound of struggle. A man holding a gun on Shaw.

Don't use your power, he thought and finished with, don't let Shaw die. Don't use your power obviously, he amended as Firestar's blast streaked by and took out the gun pointed at Shaw.

Vance barreled into the closest attacker, discreetly using his telekinesis to add more force to his punches. Firestar's blast took out a man behind him, while he used a small amount of telekinesis to cause the man behind her to slip and fall onto to Thomas who struggled against another attacker.

"Shaw!" Vance shouted up at Firestar. She nodded and trusting him to guard her back, turned all her firepower to the men who were trying to surround Shaw and Lindon. Her blasts forced the attackers back while Vance used his telekinesis to jam and the guns of those close to him. Firestar's blasts hit the floor nearby, causing the men to jump back. Slowly, Firestar forced the man to gather into a type little group.

"Keep them contained while we disarm them," Thomas order, shoving his opponent in with the others. He began checking the man for all weapons, finally ripping off the ski mask.

"Who sent you?" Shaw demanded as he circled around the table he had used for a shield. He stepped over Francis' still and blood soaked form.

The man looked at a Shaw with a blank expression and then crumbled to the ground. The rest of the attackers followed suit a second later.

"What happened?" Angel asked.

"Controlled," Shaw spat out. "Most likely by the Gamesmaster."

Vance bent over one man, his eye caught by a glint.

"Thomas," Shaw ordered. "Search them, and then let Lindon's men have them."

"What are you going to do with them?" Angel asked. "If they're controlled, it's not their fault."

"Their fate is nothing you need to worry," Shaw said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "Good work tonight," he added, the praise sounding strange from his lips. "We'll leave soon." He then went to confer with Lindon.

There was a small cough. Angel turned and looked down. Vance knelt by one of the attack and nodded down slightly with his head, directing her to look at the man's wrist. Angel looked. Around the man's wrist hung a small good bracelet, a control bracelet. If it was the Gamesmaster, Angel thought, he had access to Frost's toys.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 08

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Angel stared out of the limo's tinted window. Too dark to see much of anything, it was still a better option than staring at the two men. Thomas sat opposite her and Shaw, staring at the road behind them when he lacked in-coming information to focus on. Sometimes his leg absently brushed against hers, but unlike earlier in the evening, the contact lacked any suggestiveness. Shaw stared out the window, his fingers drumming lightly on the car door. After all the surprises of the day, she felt tired and drained. She closed her eyes for a second.

"How did they know where we were?" Shaw asked suddenly turning to Thomas.

Angel jerked slightly, the sound of the voice drawing her back from the step before sleep.

Thomas closed his Blackberry and slid it into his pocket. "Someone let something slip. My money is on the Black Queen." He opened his jacket and took a sip from his bottle of water.

"Our men?" Shaw persisted.

"Vetted as much as possible. The only questionable one might be Ralph," Thomas replied, and Angel hoped she hadn't tensed at the mention of Vance's alias. "But I don't think that is likely," Thomas continued. "It would've been wiser to take us out en route. If Ralph is behind it, we weren't the target."

Shaw nodded, "Do you think it was Shinobi?"

"Doubtful," Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. "Gamesmaster himself, maybe. But not Shinobi himself. Someone else would be my best guess."

Shaw grunted.

"Why?" Angel asked when both men seemed to stop talking. She drew a look from Shaw and cocked eyebrow from Thomas who loosened his tie and stretched out his legs. "I mean, why all this," she continued, "The Hellfire Club stared as a gentleman's club, didn't it?"

Shaw actually chuckled. "Wikipedia?"

"No. Professor MacHenry."

Shaw looked thoughtful for a moment. "He is correct, at least for the start of the club."

"That's why women are struck wearing underwear," Angel muttered. The corset felt more restricting by the hour. Thomas laughed, and Shaw allowed himself a smile.

"He also must have told you that the founders were men of means," Shaw looked at her, and she nodded. "Eventually, the men realized that the purpose of the club should be power, at least in the inner most circle. So the men started to use their influence to first expand their personal wealth and then to safeguard such wealth, to control the ruling power. Finally, members of the inner circle became almost solely mutants."

"So it's a version of what Magneto wants?" Angel asked.

Shaw shook his head and leaned closer. "Magneto has a cause, one he believes to b altruistic. We're more honest. For us, mutant powers are a means to an end, nothing more. They make controlling real power easier. A subtle word here or there can influence events in ways."

"This whole thing is because you want to be a kitchen cabinet?" Angel asked.

"See Thomas, some people her age do pay attention in class," Shaw looked back at her. "Not quite. Humans, mutants, animals. It's all the same. It's all about power. That is what life is, the gaining, wielding, and keeping of power. It is better, far better, to wield power out of sight, out of the news. Makes you less of a target, as you must know considering how often your power has made you and your father targets." Shaw didn't even look guilty, just as if he were imparting an important lesson. "It's about being in control."

"In control?" Angel asked and then bit back the comment about his son that was on the tip of her tongue. If that was how he saw the world she was sorry for him.

"It's the only game that matters. I play to win. I'll teach you like I've taught Thomas."

While Thomas smiled at her, Angel looked at her window. At least, now she had a better judge of the worthlessness of Shaw's promises. A touch on her hand drew her attention away from the lack of scenery. Studying her, Thomas had leaned forward in his seat and taken her hand, "Should I help you out of your clothes and deliver the promised tutorial?" His eyes traveled the length of her body as she flushed, yanked her hand from his grasp, and angrily shook her head.

"It's coming up," Speedball announced to the Warriors from his position in front of the computer's console. He looked over his shoulder and saw the huge form of Rage blocked out the view for the rest of his teammates. The bouncing wonder punched a few keys, and Firestar's sketches and other information that Justice had sent blinked up on the additional screens. "The files seem okay."

"I hadn't realized that Firestar was this talented," Thrash murmured in a voice that hinted at plans for the future as he studied the sketches.

"Or that devious," Nova added in reference to her hiding place.

"She got a scholarship," Justice rebuked. "She's quiet. Not stupid."

"How's she doing?" Nita asked, her eyes flashing over the information on the screen.

"Hanging in there," Justice paused, and the others could hear the background noise of the distant cyber café. "Shaw says he's her father."

Nova whistled, "Is it true?"

"She's adopted, right?" Nita asked.

"And that's why you guys need to find out. 'Star doesn't believe it, but we need to know for sure."

"We haven't found too much yet," Nita said. "Just birth dates for Chase, general education background. He went to Harvard, has a business degree. But it's only been a day."

"We'll see what we can find out about these men in the sketches, but it will take time,"

Thrash added.

Nova glared at him. "We haven't found the goon squads yet either," his tone saying that this was the more important piece of information.

"You need to. Soon," Justice demanded. "Chase pays too much attention to Angel. He's too touchy. He's always there."

"I understand," Thrash said and ignored Nova's snort. "But's not like we can just press a button. . ."

"Shaw hit Angel," Justice interrupted. His voice tense. "I'm not sure I can watch . . .I don't think I can. . ." he paused. "I don't want Angel to be in a situation where she has to take a beating or worse simply to protect us."

"It wouldn't come to that," Thrash began.

"It might," Nita interrupted. "And Firestar . . ." she shook her head. "I'm not going to let this happen to the rest of you again. The Sub-Marnier declared before flying off.

"Be safe, Supertights," Nova called as he followed Nita out of the skylight.

"I don't understand," Bart Jones tried to keep his temper in check as he looked at Professor Charles Xavier. "Why can't you help?"

"From what I understand, your daughter's teammates are looking for her," Xavier began from his position behind his desk.

"They say they're looking for her," Bart countered, shifting restlessly in his leather seat. He looked across the desk at the other man. He found it hard to meet the Professor's penetrating stare. "But they got her into this mess."

"Perhaps that is true," Xavier began again. "But I'm not sure what you expect me to do."

Bart frowned," You're a mutant expert. There must be some way to find her. When Angel first discovered she was a mutant, Emma Frost appeared so quickly. She had to know some how." He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Xavier hid his surprise at Bart Jones' guess about Cerebro. That hadn't gotten out, he hoped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, but it's not that simple. In situations like this, it's best to let the team handle it. They have resources."

"You mean you won't help," Bart interrupted his clutching at the arms of the chair. "If she's not one your own special mutants than she doesn't matter."

"Mr. Jones, I know you're upset, but I've met your daughter and she's more than capable of handling yourself." Xavier replied, letting the outburst pass.

Bart narrowed his eyes. "Met her? When?"

"When she was at the Hellfire Academy," Xavier didn't go into details.

"So you knew Frost and just let Frost . . ." Bart sputtered in confusion. What was this, some elite club?

"Mutants run in small circles, too small sometimes," Xavier shook his head. "I can tell you that Frost is not behind this, at least. She is indisposed at the moment." In a coma, in the mansion's sub-basement, Xavier added mentally. "Mutant lives aren't always peaceful; the best thing is to let her friends handle it."

"I know that Professor," Bart rose. "I knew from the minute Angel discovered her powers her life wasn't going to be easy. But her team didn't protect her they should have. It seems to me that if you want peace for mutants, you should help more of them."

Professor Xavier sighed. "I'll see if I discover anything, Mr. Jones," he said as he wheeled himself out from behind his desk. "And let you know." He offered Mr. Jones his hand.

With a nod, Bart shook Xavier's offered hand and left.

Xavier watched Bart Jones get into his car and then left the bay window heading for the sub-basements. While he wasn't about to admit the existence of Cerebro to Mr. Jones, he didn't intend to let this bit of news go without checking up on it. Time to find out what happened to the rest of the old Hellfire club. "Warren," he called mentally. "I need to see you and Hank."

Bart Jones slammed the car door and clutched angrily at the steering wheel. He wanted to pound the damn thing, but he didn't want to give Xavier the satisfaction. Asshole, he thought. If Angel had been one of those X-Factor mutants, he would've helped. Bart yanked on his seat belt, started the car, and took off down the drive. He turned at the gate and head back to the expressway. Now what, he questioned. Maybe the Avengers could do something. Didn't they avenge? Maybe Spider-Man. Angel, Firestar, had worked with him, according to the news.

Suddenly, the car skidded. He corrected it quickly. It couldn't have been ice, he thought as he slowed down. Too warm for it. If not the Avengers, than maybe X-Factor. He was a tax payer. The government worked for him, stupid money hungry politicians. He saw the sign for his turn, flicked the turn signal, and eased up on the gas.

Or that's what he intended to do.

Instead, his foot slammed down hard on the gas. "What?" he shouted as he tried to stop the car, but his feet refused to obey him. He couldn't even turn the wheel. Is this a stroke, he wondered as the rest of him panicked. His hands wanted to turn the wheel, to send the car careening off the road. "NO!" he shouted, regaining, somehow, control of his hands and corrected the course of the car.

"Damn!" he heard someone curse inside his head. He felt a sharp pain in his chest.

The last thing he saw was the huge sheet of ice, an impossible sheet of ice, ahead of him. The car skidded one last time, went off the road, and slammed into a tree.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Power Behind the Throne 09

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Marvel owns them; I'm just borrowing them.

Nova flew as quickly as he could. Despite the title of human rocket, he reached the accident scene after EMS. "Fuck," he breathed as he took in the wreckage of Bart Jones' car. He flew down to the gathered workers. "Need some help?" he asked as he landed.

A dark haired EMS worker looked up at him and shook her head. "He's gone."

Oh God, poor Red, Nova thought before asking, "What happened?"

A cop gave him a why do you care expression, but replied, "Looks like a heart attack and just lost control."

Nova nodded and studied the accident scene. Thrash could get the reports and figure this out. Then, whether Thrash wanted him to or not, he was going to call Justice.

Vance entered the mansion and made his way though the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and walked quickly down the hallway. He should be able to sneak a couple minutes with Angel. He walked quietly down the hallway and then paused when he heard voices from Shaw's office. He moved closer to the door.

"How do we keep this from her?" Thomas said sounding worried for a change.

"We say he had a job offer and is out of town for an interview," Shaw replied with a cough.

"And then?" Thomas challenged. "It's going to be like holding a tiger by the tail."

"We'll think of something," Shaw coughed. "Or we'll have proof that it wasn't us. We spin this the right way, and she could be far more willing." Shaw broke out into a coughing fit.

Frowning, Vance moved quickly away. His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Nova? Why was he calling, Vance wondered as he headed for the door. Once outside, he answered. "What happened?" he demanded after making sure no one else was around.

"Vance," Nova said his voice funny. "It's Angel's dad; he's dead."

Vance leaned asked a wall and closed his eyes. Shit, he thought.

"Vance?" Nova asked.

"How?" he forced out. He would never have a chance to make things right.

"Not sure yet, but the cops think he had a heart attack and crashed the car. He had been seeing Professor Xavier. I'm not sure . . ."

"Trying to find Angel, most likely," Vance supplied.

"Thrash is going to take care of . . . well, things," Nova supplied lamely. "He's monitoring the investigation."

"I'm not sure if Shaw is behind it," Vance thought aloud. "He was talking with Thomas." He opened his eyes. "They have a cat."

"Who?"

"Angel and her father. They have a cat."

"Oh," Nova sounded slightly confused. "We'll take care of it." He paused. "Thrash's thinks that you shouldn't tell Red."

Vance felt a flash of anger. "He does? And we tell her afterwards, what, you saved everyone else, but, sorry, your father's been dead? Right."

"I didn't say I agreed with him," Nova sounded defensive. "We did get her birth records and Shaw is listened as her father. We also found the team that is watching Speedball's family and Chord." He made the news sound like an offering. "Tell Red, we're thinking about her.

"Got to go," Vance hung up.

Vance nudged the camera slightly and then ducked inside Angel's room. Angel rose as the door opened and relaxed slightly when she saw him, but she tensed quickly when she saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?" she asked. He shook his head, took her hand and led her into the bathroom where he closed the door and ran the water in the tub.

"Vance," Angel asked her hand going cold in his. "What's wrong? Are the others okay?" She didn't like the look in his blue eyes.

He turned to her. "Angel, it's your father," he began as gently as he could.

Her hands clutched at his shirt. "No!" she whispered. "If they hurt him. ..."

"Ang. There was an accident. Your father was driving, and he had a heart attack. He's dead, Angelica."

"No!" she pushed Vance against the wall. "You're wrong! It's a trick!" She hit at him with her fists.

He grabbed her hands before she could lash out again, "Angel, hon. I'm sorry. He's dead."

She crumbled then, and the only thing he could do was hold her. It felt like she was shattering, as if the only thing keeping her together was his arms wrapped around her. He couldn't tell if the heat he felt radiating from her was due to grief or a portent of something more dangerous. Then she stopped crying.

"I'll kill them," she coldly declared eventually.

He clutched at her, "Ang, no."

"They killed him," she pushed aside his arms and started to get to her feet.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her back. "Shaw didn't know. I heard him talking to Thomas," he whispered urgently. "I don't think they had anything to do with this. It makes no sense for them to do this now."

"Let go," she stormed though clenched teeth as her skin heated up.

That he would not do. Shielding himself a little, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her struggling form against him. "Angelica! The others! I know you don't want Rich or Robbie to feel this!"

She stopped struggling, but her body still shook.

"If Shaw did this, after the others are safe, I help you kill him," he whispered, knowing that he was lying; he never wanted her to live with such guilt. "But you can't let them know. You have to act like . .. "

Sobbing, she shook her head.

"You can," he countered, stroking her hair. "I'll be here."

"He's dead," she whispered, her voice sound weary, heart broken, and forlorn. He wanted to make things better. He wanted to, but knew he couldn't. He rested his head against hers.

"I'm sorry. I'll . . ." he eventually began, but the sound of the door to the suite closing cut him off.

They both froze. There was a knock on the door. "Angelica," Thomas called out. "Are you in there?"

Vance's hands tightened on her as Angel took a deep breath and managed a shaky, "Yes."

"Are you okay?" they could hear his feet outside the door. "You sound strange."

Angel swallowed and rubbed her eyes, "I'm about to take a bath." Vance reached out with his mind and closed the drain to the tub.

"Come out for a second. I need to talk to you," Thomas said, and his feet moved away from the door.

"I'll be right there," Angel called out, rising to her feet. Vance grabbed a washcloth and stuck it under the water as Angel turned her back to him. She removed her shirt, bra, and jeans before wrapping a towel around herself. She rubbed the washcloth over her eyes. Vance squeezed her shoulders before stepping into the bathtub and hovering an inch above the water. He turned off the tap.

Angel opened the door to the bath room and walked out. Thomas stopped pacing and turned to her. His eyes swept over her form, and while he licked his lips, his usually rejoinders were absent. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I thought you should know that your father is out of town, out of West Morris that is, on a job interview."

"Oh," she managed, staring at the floor, trying not to shake. If he said anything suggestive, she would fry him. She wouldn't be able to stop herself. She focused on breathing, on the knowledge that Rob and Rich still had family to be harmed.

"It means," Thomas continued staring at her, "that while he is still under surveillance, he is not longer accessible to the cameras." Thomas frowned; her skin was flushed, her breathing a little heavy. Did he do this to her?

She looked up at him, blue eyes peering into him. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" she challenged.

"You don't. But the same rules apply," he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He felt a shiver around though her before she jerked away. Interesting, he thought.

"Can I go back to my bath?" she asked, moving away from him.

"Of course," he replied. "I'll see you at dinner." He turned and left.

After waiting a few seconds, Angel rushed back into the bathroom and reached the toilet just before vomiting. Vance knelt next to her and brushed her hair back. "Just a little longer," he said softly, cupping her face.

She pulled away from him a little, wrapping herself into a tight ball. "You should go before they realize . . ." she swallowed. "I can't lose. . ., " She couldn't finish, but simply rested her head on her arms.

Not wanting to leave her like this, he kissed her forehead and telekinetically pulled a blanket from the bedroom which he wrapped around her. "I'll be back," he promised.

She didn't reply, just hugged herself tighter.

Thomas pulled out his phone as he walked down the hallway. He dialed the number from memory. "Why?" he demanded.

"Mr. Jones you mean. He was digging. It would've been too dangerous not to."

"It was unnecessary," Thomas countered striding out onto the patio.

"Don't tell me you're going soft."

"You're risking my life!" he pointed out angrily running a hand though his brown hair. "So far everything is successful."

His boss ignored the complaint. "How is Shaw handling it?"

"We'll spinning a line about a job offer," Thomas' rage cooled slightly. "She seems to be buying it for the moment."

"See? No harm done."

Thomas snorted.

"Don't tell me you are succumbing to Shaw's matchmaking scheme," the voice said.

"She's not what I excepted."

"Don't make to the same mistakes your brother made," the voice said coolly.

"Hardly a concern," Thomas mumbled.

"But should you want play time, go right ahead," his boss continued. "Contact me tomorrow at the same time."

Thomas pocketed his phone, turned suddenly, and punched the wall.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Power Behind the Throne 10

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Don't own them, and I am making no profit.

Deathly pale, Angelica paused before the dining room door. She tucked her hair behind her ears. She clasped her hands until they stopped shaking. She took a deep breath. Her stomach hurt. She couldn't do this. A brief image of Nova and Speedball's faces when their families had been targeted flashed before her eyes. She closed her eyes to block out all the images.

She needed to do this. She dipped her head and took a deep breath. Steeling herself she opened the door and entered the room.

As usual, an impeccably dressed Shaw sat at the head of an already laid table. "You're late," he accused.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she sat down.

"It's my fault, sir," Thomas said as he picked up his knife and fork. "I interrupted her bath."

Angel looked at her plate. Why did Thomas defend her?

Shaw stared at Thomas, grunted and then turned to his plate. "You're not eating," he said after a few minutes.

Angel looked up from her plate, "Not hungry."

Shaw frowned and exchanged a glance with Thomas who shrugged. "Is anything wrong? You are no good to me ill."

Angel stared down at her fork. The utensil started to bend. Startled, she switched off her power, hoping that neither made had realized what she had done. "Cramps," she said. "Really bad menstrual cramps."

A funny look came over Shaw's face. "Rachel can bring some aspirin to your room. You are excused if you wish."

Angel left the table as quickly as she could.

Consumed with a feeling of helplessness, Vance stared at the ceiling in the bunkhouse. Every part of him wanted to be with Angel, but he forced himself to stay in the bunk. He couldn't afford to be missed; Angel was right about that. Hopefully tomorrow he could check up on her. Not that it would do much good.

He never wanted to see her like that again.

"You didn't eat much at breakfast," Thomas said as he waited for the guardsmen to get into place for the practice session.

"I wasn't hungry," Firestar replied. The food tasted like ash. She shifted from foot to foot, unnerved by the weight of his eyes upon her.

"Still cramps? You don't look like you've slept."

"You're keeping me prisoner," Angel flexed her hands. She needed the session to start now.

"Ah, you're upset that Mr. Jones seems to have forgotten about you. It's best that you forgot him in turn."

"Don't say his name," she growled, turning angrily toward and taking a step forward. Her hands curled into fists.

"Touchy," he reached gently and took hold of her chin, raising her head so he could study her face. "And we were getting along so well." One finger moved to lightly stroke her cheek. "Shaw's your father now, and a little confusion is, of course, natural after everything." He lightly brushed her lips with his. "Sweet," he murmured. "You're not quite what I thought. I see what attracted my brother."

"Let go," Firestar demanded.

He let go of her chin, but moved more fully into her space, so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed quickly. "You're not friendless here," he continued softly. "Not entirely."

Angry, she looked up at him. "You're saying you're my friend?"

He leaned into her. "You're trembling," he brushed his lips against her cheek.

"Don't," Firestar pleaded, her heads coming to rest on his chest, clutching the material of his uniform. He could feel the power humming though at that moment.

"Don't what? Touch you? Why, because you're afraid that you'll like it?" He pushed before kissing her gently. "Time for practice. The object is to take me out. I'm sure you'll enjoy that at least," He turned and left the ready room.

Firestar stared at his back and her eyes glowed. She hated him.

Before the door to the practice room slid fully open, Firestar flew though the opening. The practice room had been configured to resemble a maze, complete with corridors and sudden stops.

Not that it was going to stop her.

Thomas wanted her to take him out; she was willing oblige.

Anything to make the refrain of death in her head stop.

She wanted to hurt Thomas. This was his fault. His and Shaw's.

She blinked back the tears.

Two guardsmen appeared, but she quickly melted their weapons. Her next shot forced them back and caused them to collide. As she flew, over them she let out a low pulse, hopefully taking the comm. devices.

A few turns later, a net slammed into her, forcing her to the ground.

"Not so tough, guardsmen said as he leapt down from his position. "Don't understand what all the fuss is about. Just because you're a looker," He smirked.

Bastard, she thought. Quickly she burned her way though the netting and launched herself at the masked man. In less than a second, his gun was slag. She landed on top of him, forcing him to the ground. She pulled back a glowing hand.

The man's eyes widened. "No! Don't'!! Please!"  
She punched him hard in the face. Twice.

She rose and flew off quickly to find Thomas.

Underneath his mask, Vance bit his lip in worry as he watched Angel demolish the guardsmen. Too angry, he thought, watching her pick up guardsmen and throw him into Phillip. Thomas asking us to push her on top of her father isn't good. She needs to get away from here.

Halfway though the maze, Firestar got tired of the whole thing. All the corridors, all the guardsmen popping out of nowhere. She hated games. She paused in mid-flight, then charged direction, burning her way though wall after wall.

"Impressive, not what I had in mind, but impressive," Thomas said as he watched her progress on his Blackberry.

"Perhaps, we pushed too much, sir," Vance commented, making himself sound nervous and not worried.

"Perhaps it's something else," Thomas replied. "No worries, Ralph. She won't hurt us. Get up there."

Vance wasn't so sure.

There he is, Firestar thought, as she melted her though a wall. Dodging the net he shot off at her, she flew towards him.

"You're beautiful when you're angry," Thomas shouted at her. "Perhaps after your monthly . . ."

The blast hit an inch from his feet, and he fell backwards with muffled curse.

Firestar closed in.

Shielding himself, Vance jumped down from his perch and landed as gently as he could on Firestar. She fell to the ground. She twisted under him. Her hand pushed at him, and then she hit him across the face. She started to heat up more, so much so that he could feel it though his shield. "It's me," he whispered. "Remember. Not much longer, I swear." He felt the air cool and saw Angel give a slight nod, felt her take several deep breaths.

Vance moved as Thomas walked up. "Good work, Ralph. Brave move." He leaned down and gently pulled Firestar to her feet. "Don't let me distract you next time."

Firestar yanked her arm from his grasp, and head down, walked away to the showers without saying a word.


	11. Chapter 11

1Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 11

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: I don't own them and I am making no profit.

"You are late," the voice dripped with displeasure.

"I've been busy," Thomas replied as he paced the length of the pool and watched Ralph get into a car and drive into town. "We're going tonight."

"The place?"

"The old romantic getaway. We are meeting Linton."

"I'll make sure to leave a surprise."

"Not too big of one, " Thomas countered.

"Worried about your skin? Don't be. It's almost time."

Vance entered the small diner and looked around. No Hellfire guards. He relaxed slightly. He took a seat with a good view of the door. A few minutes later, Rich, dressed in dark sunglasses and a baseball hat, entered. The Human Rocket took a seat in the booth. Both men quickly ordered.

"How's Red?" Rich asked stirring sugar into his coffee.

Vance shook his head, "How do you think she is? Any word about her father?"

"Thrash is keeping tabs on the investigation, but it just seems to be an accident," Rich frowned down at his coffee. "He says he'll arrange for . . . things," Rich finished lamely. "You know the house, the will and everything. Nita and I got the cat. It keeps looking at Nita like she's a fish dinner."

"That's not going to make her feel better," Vance looked around. "She almost lost it yesterday."

Rich put down his coffee with a muffled curse, "Red? What happened?"

"She's angry and hurt, and Thomas, Shaw's man; he's too touchy. He pushes her. It's like the bastard is trying to hit on her." His hand tightened on the cup.

Rich studied his friend, "And you don't like it. How are you handling it?"

Vance shrugged, "This meeting is dangerous."

But this meeting will be worth it." He pulled something out of his pocket and lay on the table.

Vance reached up and palmed it.

Rich waited for the waitress to drop off their order and then said, "You need to insert into the computer, the one that controls the feed of our families. It'll allow us to gain control of the computers."

"You found the other teams then?"

Rich nodded. "Thrash says soon. Call when you get it in." He started to shove food into his mouth. "Tell Red, we're thinking of her." He paused. "You too."

Vance entered Angel's suite and paused. Unmoving, she sat curled up on a chair by the window. Concerned, he knelt in front of her, "Ang," he said softly, gently touching her arm.

She jerked awake and almost jumped out of her seat. "You shouldn't be here; it's too dangerous." She rubbed her eyes.

"Thomas is busy," he said quickly, brushing her hair away from her eyes, frowning slightly at how wasted she looked. His thumb wiped away a tear. "After we get back tonight, I need you to distract Thomas. Thrash has found a way to control the cameras."

Her eyes flashed as she nodded.

Dressed in his guardsman's uniform, Vance got of the SUV and opened the door for Angel. As she got out, Angel drew the dark cape more tightly over the revealing costume that she wore. She raised her eyes to look at the Chalet. The building was lit up and looked almost warm and inviting. Beautiful. For a brief second, she smiled, but then a wave of guilt washed over her, and she looked quickly down. She shouldn't be thinking such thought after what happened to her father. She swallowed and looked up to briefly met Vance's eyes.

On the other side of the SUV, Shaw stepped out in Thomas' wake. The rotund man coughed and lightly squeezed Thomas' shoulder for support. A private signal, Angel wondered. The two heads bent together as Shaw said something. She felt a knot of anger in her stomach.

Vance watched as Angel's hands curled into fists briefly and noticed the subtle change in her posture. Too damn public to give her any sign or hint of comfort, he thought with a mixture of disgust and anger. He closed the door with an audible noise, drawing not only Angel's startled look but a frown from Thomas.

Shaw coughed and gestured for Angel to join him. "Come, my dear; it is time to make our entrance."

Angel took his arm, trying to ignore the crawling feeling on her flesh. As they walked up toward the house, they need to stop twice of Shaw's coughing fits. Thomas and Vance took point. "Is there a problem?" Thomas began when the chalet exploded.

The blast forced everyone to the ground. Without thinking, Vance raised his telekinetic shield. The raining debris hit something and fell away before reaching his shield. Vance risked a look at Thomas. The man was focusing, a familiar uncomfortable look on his face. Vance felt the subtle pressure of another and weaker telekinetic. He toned down his own shield as much as he could and hoped that Thomas hadn't noticed.

Behind him, Angel rose quickly to her feet as Shaw struggled into a sitting position while suffering yet another coughing fit. She looked towards the ruins of the chalet and saw a figure move away from the building. Taking to the air, she went to intercept it.

Thomas lowered his shield; he turned to Vance. "Follow . . ." he began and then his eyes widened as he took in Shaw who had now collapsed on the ground. Vance looked. Shaw seemed to be in the grips of some type of seizure. His body was shaking, he moaned about cold, and he clutched his head. Thomas and Felix, the other guardsman, hurried to him. "Follow Firestar," Thomas repeated. "Stop staring!" He gave Vance a mental shove.

As Firestar closed in on the mysterious mutant, she made out a body formed entirely of ice. For an irrational moment, she thought he was Iceman, but she had worked with the X-Man before. And this mutant had ice spikes decorating his back and his hands. The mutant looked up, noticed her, and let lose with a large blast. Firestar's microwave blast slammed into it with a hiss. Firestar rose above the resulting steam and melted the mutant's ice slide. The mutant tumbled though the air before recovering quickly and starting his ice slide once more. Ice surrounded her. The air cooled in her lungs, she could feel icicles form on her eyelashes, her body began to shake; she could feel the cold in her bones. Anger flooded though her. Her power coiled inside of her. She let her anger and power out. It met the ice, dissolved as Firestar flew though the air, heading straight for the mystery mutant.

The mutant met her head on. Ice cold hands grabbed hers. Her fire licked at them. Stream rose as they grappled. Despite the intense heat she put out, the ice man drew her closer for a second.

"You've progressed, child," he said. "You were my special student, after all."

Firestar's eyes widen. Then he melted, dissolved, though she had not done it. The drops of water falling into the pond below.

She landed by the pond. "Are you okay?" Vance asked as he came up.

"He sounded like Frost," she said.

"What? How?"

"The mutant sounded like Frost," she repeated, meeting his eyes before they both looked back at the pond until a worried Thomas called them back.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 12

Rating: MA

Author: Ethiercn

Disclaimer: I don't own them

"Felix, get the wheelchair," Thomas commanded as the SUV pulled up in front of Shaw's mansion.

"I don't need a wheelchair," Shaw snapped weakly.

Thomas chose not to listen and hustled a complaining Shaw into the chair. Angel and Vance followed them inside the mansion and watched as they made their way upstairs. With a quick look at Angel, Vance made his way to Shaw's office and computers. Angel followed to keep watch in the corridor.

"What are you doing here?" Thomas demanded in surprise as he came down the hallway and slid his cell phone back into his pocket.

"I thought you might want to debrief me, like last time," Angel said quickly but loudly enough for Vance to hear on the other side of the door. She ignored Thomas' raised eyebrow. "How is Shaw?"

Thomas' face closed off. "Concerned about your father? It is unclear what caused the attack. Perhaps the other mutant did. It seems that the X-Men are behind this."

Angel frowned. She had heard that X-Men refrain before. The mutant had seemed so much like Frost. "It didn't look like Iceman," she offered.

"With mutants, anything is possible. You should know that," he raised a hand to her cheek. "Shaw will be fine. It would be best, however, to humor him over the next couple days. Is there anything else you wanted? If not," he began to move around her, "I need to get some things from Shaw's office."

No, Angel thought, he would discover Vance. Panicked, she moved closer and did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him.

For a second, he was surprised, and she thought hopefully that it would be the end of it. Then, he pulled her closer. He weaved a hand though her hair and tilted her head back. His tongue entered her mouth.

Eventually, Thomas pulled away from a moment to look at her. Her skin was flushed, her breathing heavy, she was shaking, she refused to meet his eyes, but her hands rested on him. "This is sudden." He slid his hands down her back. How the Queen must have chuckled when assigning him this duty, he thought not for the first time.

"Yes," she whispered. Where was Vance, she thought, she needed to get Thomas away from the door. She forced herself to stand still and looked up at Thomas.

Thomas studied her face for a moment. She seemed willing, he thought, and he was more than entitled. Neither employer would care; in fact, Shaw approved, and the Queen wanted her alive and malleable. He captured Angel's lips with his. His hands cupped her ass, and she didn't stop him. Her hands tugged hesitantly at his shirt, and to his delight, she kissed him back. "This way," he whispered, pulling her down the hallway and into the living room. He shut the door. He gently untied and removed her cape. His tie and shirt followed. He kissed her forehead and then, more passionately, her mouth. He fell back on the couch as he pulled her on top of him. He trailed kisses down her neck, and then began to work on the fastenings of her corset. She whimpered, but raised his head so she could find his lips with hers. He gently slid the corset off. She shivered as his hands touched her.

Angel tried to stop her shaking. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend it was Vance undoing her top, running his hands and lips over her breasts. She saw a bloodied body and stifled a cry. She couldn't afford to lose anyone else, and so forced herself to stay still. Forced herself to run her hands over Thomas, to move against him as his hand ventured lower. She couldn't stop the shiver of revulsion that went though her.

Slowly, Thomas told himself, moving one of his hands away from the top of Angel's pants. Don't spook her anymore than she already is. Slowly, he repeated, as he moved his mouth once more to her breast. Slowly, he repeated to himself, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin warm under his hands. He knew the easier he made it for her, the higher the chance of her loyalty. He shifted her slightly on his lap as she arched against him. He took a nipple into his mouth. Her hands dug into his shoulders.

"Sir," a voice said as the door slammed open.

Thomas dragged his lips away and looked over Angel's shoulder. "What?" he growled at Ralph.

"Shaw wants you," the other man's voice was thick with anger. He stared at both of them. Thomas felt Angel cringe in embarrassment.

Gently, Thomas moved Angel off of him, shielding her from Ralph's eyes. "I'm coming," he kissed Angel's shoulder, gently put the cape over her, and pulled on his shirt as he moved from the couch. He walked to the door and paused for a moment to note Ralph's angry stance before the man left the room ahead of him.

That, Thomas thought, needed watching.

Hair still damp from the shower, Angel pulled the sweater over her head and then wrapped her arms around herself as she nervously paced the room. She still felt dirty. She worried about Thomas coming, worried about Vance's reaction, worried about the knowledge that she would do whatever it took to keep Vance alive, even if it meant letting Thomas . . . She shook her head and continued pacing.

The door opened. She jumped. Before she could move, Vance crossed the room. He cupped her face in his hands and then pulled her close.

She stood rigid in his embrace, feeling his anger. "I'm ... "she began.

"I'm not mad at you," he said softly. At that, she relaxed into him. She felt his hands on her hair, a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She pressed closer for an instant. She closed eyes and reality came crashing back. "Go," she whispered, stepping out of his embrace and feeling cold again.

He ran his thumb over her lips before kissing her gently. "The device is in. I'll tell the others about this ice mutant." He kissed her again. "Barricade the door," he whispered and then left.

Bobby Drake woke up. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. He had nodded off while on duty again. If Scott got wind of this, he would deliver one of his everlasting lectures. Still, Bobby conceded, falling asleep so often wasn't good, and he always felt more tried afterwards, as if he put though a wringer.

"Bobby!" Warren stuck his head though the door. "Professor wants us. Something about a recent car accident." The Archangel's eyes rested on the White Queen. "Any change yet?"

"No. She's still a vegetable. I'm coming." Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe, he should talk to Hank.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Power behind the Throne Part 13

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to these characters, I could quit my job.

Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Angel watched as Shaw circled the block of ice that encased the body of his son. Since coming out of the house, Shaw hadn't said anything, and despite everything, Angel pitied the man. She knew too much about losing family members.

"How did it get here?" Shaw demanded of Thomas who stood stiffly off to the side.

"It was here this morning. Felix found it. I'm not sure how it was put on the grounds without the alarms going off." He looked in Angel's direction, "It would seem that the X-Men are responsible."

Shaw grunted. He turned to Angel. "Melt the ice. Make sure that you do not harm the body unless you wanted your friends killed." He turned back to Thomas, "See to the body and double the guards." He walked over to Thomas. "If you wish to keep your position, this will not happen again. Otherwise, I will find someone else to take over all your duties," he finished with a significant glance at his daughter. Shaw then turned on his heel and stalked off.

A few minutes later and Shinobi Shaw's body was freed from the block of ice. Hugging herself, Angel watched as the guardsmen adjusted the body. Thomas knelt down beside the corpse and studied it. He gestured for the men to take it away. Thomas rose and made his way over to Angel.

"Did he . . . " she began.

"Freeze to death?" Thomas finished. "It's too early to tell, though there is no sign of violence to the body." He put his arms around her shoulders, feeling her tense slightly as he did so. He steered her back to the house. "Don't worry. Shaw won't blame you." He looked over to see Ralph watching them.

"After we questioned Shinobi over your disappearance, Nova handed him off to the authorities," Vance whispered as he stood behind Angel, who sat at the edge of Shaw's pool. "He got bail or pulled some strings."

Angel rested on her head on her knees. "Thomas thinks it's the X-Men, but that doesn't make anything sense." She watched the house. Talking in the open presented its own set of dangers, but if she spent too much time inside the house, questions would arise.

"Thrash said he was going to contact the X-Men," Vance replied, referring to his conversation late last night. "He says we should move soon." Vance looked down worriedly at Angel. "Did Thomas," he began, but then saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "Into the pool," he commanded quickly, taking a few steps back as Angel slide into the water and began to swim.

"Ralph," Thomas acknowledged as he came out onto the patio and reached the pool. "Anything to report?"

"She's swimming, sir. No sign of anyone else."

With a slight leer, Thomas looked at the bikini clad Angel, "She looks good all wet and slick, doesn't she?"

"Sir," Vance replied carefully under Thomas' watchful brown eyes.

Thomas knelt by the pool, "Angelica," he called, beckoning her over.

Angel turned and, quelling the feeling of disquiet, swam over. Thomas hadn't said anything about yesterday, hadn't tried anything over the night, but the thought of any contact with him sickened her.

"Shaw wants to see us," Thomas extended a hand to help her out of the pool. He picked up the towel and wrapped it around her, allowing his hands to linger on her body. Glaring at him, Angel angrily grabbed the towel and dried herself off, before tying it around her waist. As she turned to go into the house, Thomas gently took her arm and pulled her against him tightly. She rested her hands on his chest. "Afterwards, perhaps we can continue our encounter from last night," he suggested before kissing her deeply, keeping his eyes open to watch Ralph. The guardsman's hands kept trying to curl into fists. Thomas allowed Angel to break off the kiss. "In a more intimate setting of course," he finished talking Angel's arm in his and walking toward the house. Ralph's reaction, he thought, had been very telling.

Depositing Thrash, Nova landed on the lawn to the former School for Gifted Youngsters. He stared at the mansion. "Do we ring the bell?" he asked.

"According to Cable, they should be expecting us," Thrash replied, moving towards the house." Before he could ring the bell, the door opened, and Nova recognized Cyclops.

"Night Thrasher and Kid Nova, correct?" the X-Men's leader said.

"Just Nova," the Human Rocket corrected quickly.

Cyclops nodded, "This way." He led them into and though the mansion. Nova had to suppress an envious whistle. Why couldn't the Warriors' headquarters be something like this, he wondered. Cyclops opened a door and gestured them into an office. Inside, a bald man in a wheelchair sat behind a desk.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Thrasher and Mr. Nova," the man said. "I'm Professor Xavier."

Well, at least Chrome Dome got his name right, Nova thought as Cyclops leaned against the desk.

"Cable said you had some questions about Emma Frost," Xavier continued, "And I presume about your missing teammate, Firestar." He saw the shocked looks of the two Warriors. "Angelica Jones' father visited me before his untimely death."

Thrash gave the two men an abbreviated version of the Warrior's current situation and Justice and Firestar's encounter with the ice mutant who sounded like Emma Frost.

"As of right now, Emma Frost is still in a coma," Professor Xavier began in a slight condescending tone.

"Firestar would know what her former teacher sounded like," Thrash interrupted angrily. "We believe her. We went up against Frost. We know what telepaths can do."

Suddenly, Professor Xavier exchanged a look of horrific knowledge with Cyclops.

"Jean, what she did during the Sentinels attack at the Hellfire Club," the visor wearing man began and then turned to hit a button on the desk. "Hank, get up here."

"What is going on?" Nova demanded.

"In a minute," Cyclops said over his shoulder. "I meant now, Hank"

"Now," Thrash countered harshly, staring at Xavier. "Our teammates are the ones at risk."

Maybe Thrash isn't such a cold hearted bastard after all, Nova thought as Xavier began to explain a possible theory.

In the X-mansion's sub-basement, Hank got up. "Scott needs me upstairs," he said as he scratched his blue furred chin and looked at Bobby Drake. "Wait here." He left the room.

Attached to diagnostic equipment, Bobby nodded and leaned back on the table. He closed his eyes. Then suddenly, slumped to the floor. The equipment began to beep frantically as wires were wrenched out of place. An arm formed of ice reached up and shut off the machine. Iceman yanked the remaining wires off of his body.

As Beast and Cyclops slammed the door open, the White Queen manipulated Iceman's abilities and disappeared down the sink.

**Author's Note**: In case some readers don't know, the whole Frost/Iceman thing is from _Uncanny X-Men_. When she came out of her coma, Frost took control of Iceman to find out what happened to the Hellions. Her use of his mutant abilities far outclassed his use of them. Cyclops is referring to the attack that put Frost into a coma. During that attack, Jean put herself into Frost's body.


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 14

Rating: MA

Author: Ethiercn

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Justice walked into the empty barracks and yanked his mask over his head before tossing it aside. Watching Thomas kiss Angel, touch her, seeing Angel half naked on Thomas' lap, the images all had burned themselves into his mind. It wasn't jealousy, he thought trying to calm himself, for he could see Angel's carefully masked revulsion. It was seeing Angel put into that situation and not be able to do anything; it was seeing another man go further than he himself had gone. Last night, it had taken all his self control not to progress beyond the chaste kiss, not to show her that when they made love it would be far different, far better, than what Thomas had done.

He needed to get Angel out of here before this went too far. No one deserved that bad of a first time.

His phone went off. "Justice," Thrash spoke in rush. "It's Frost. The ice mutant. She fled the X-Men. We think she's coming for Shaw. Nova's flying me and a few X-Men out. We'll just waiting for Professor X to set up with some telepathic rely. We'll be there soon. Nita and the others are taking care of the teams, so don't worry about us. Just stay safe."

Shit, Justice thought. His mind worked quickly trying to calculate how long it would take Nova to arrive.

Suddenly, the phone was yanked from his grasp and pulled across the room. Justice watched as Thomas telekinetically crushed it.

'You must be Justice," Thomas said. "I'm impressed. I should've spotted you before."

"It's Frost," Justice began, hoping to arrange a temporary truce.

"I know," Thomas replied. "Whom do you think I've been working for?"

"Frost killed your brother!" Out of the corner of his eye, Justice looked though the window.

"My brother was a fool. " Thomas noticed the glance. "Frost has plans for Firestar. A well placed comment about the death of her father, the murder of her father on Shaw's orders, and the White Queen will not have to do anything else to assume control. And don't worry; I'll be sure to keep Angelica satisfied."

Almost causally, Thomas slammed his power into Justice.

"You want me to do what?" Angel demanded as she sat in across from Shaw in his study.

"To destroy the X-Men's mansion. Raze it to the ground," Shaw replied as he studied the computer in front of him.

"But they . . ."

"They murdered my son!" Shaw roared rising to his feet and banging a fist on the desk. "You'll obey me or . . ." he finished raising his hand.

"Or what? You'll hit me like last time?" Angel challenged as she got to her feet.

Shaw crossed the distantly between them quickly, "You forget daughter," he growled grabbing her shoulders and giving her a hard shake. "That I hold lives in trust!"

Something smashed the window opened. The air inside cooled.

"Enough!" a voice demanded. "I'll lose no more students to your folly, Sebastian!"

Justice quickly blocked the blast that Thomas sent his way and followed up with one of his own. Thomas blocked this and then hurled himself into Justice. Powered by telekinesis, the two men crashed though the barracks wall. Using his wrestling experience, Justice flipped Thomas over his shoulder. The man landed hard on the patio. Justice turned and got Thomas into a hold. The Warrior looked up and saw Frost, in Iceman's body, blast open the window to Shaw's study.

Before Justice could move, he found himself hurled into the pool. Thomas' power sent him to the bottom and held him there.

Shaw was the first to regain his feet. He straightened his cuffs and brushed pieces of glass of his jacket. "Emma," he said. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Emma?" from her position on the floor, Firestar stared at Iceman.

"Child, come and stand by me," Frost said with Iceman's voice. "I'll deal with this."

Firestar didn't move.

"Why Emma?" Shaw asked.

"My Hellions are dead because of your ineffectual politics. It is time for Hellfire to be ruled by a person who has clear vision and the means to achieve it," Frost replied. "You can't even protect your children."

Shaw rushed forward, colliding with Frost. They fell to the floor. Shaw got in a couple blows, but then fell away, shaking. His breathing grew labored. Frost stood above him, a cruel smile playing across Iceman's lips.

Firestar flashed Frost. Her power flickered over the other mutant's icy body. Shaw stopped shaking. Frost turned to Firestar, "Stay out of this child," she growled.

Firestar shook her head, "I can't". She rose into the air to battle her former teacher once more.


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 15  
Author: Ethiercn

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I am making no profit.

Firestar's microwaves collided with a flock of ice arrows. Steam filled the air as hot and cold crashed together.

"You can just walk away, child" Frost offered, trying to encircle Firestar with an ice slide.

Firestar didn't reply, just burned her way thorough the slide, and used her power to force Frost back.

"What did Shaw promise you?" Frost called as she tried once last time to freeze Firestar's blood, but her charge's power protected her. "Your friends' safety? Your father's safety?" Frost sent a barrage of ice darts and ice balls in Firestar's direction. As Firestar dove under them, Frost continued, "He lied, child! Your father is dead! Dead, Angelica! Who do you think did it? Tell me, that you still believe in Shaw's word!" Frost began to lower the surrounding temperature.

Firestar appeared behind Frost. "How do you know?" she demanded. Her microwaves ripped though the ice slide. The air warmed.

Frost twisted as she fell, quickly creating an ice pole which she rode to the ground. "It wasn't an accident, Angelica. Shaw lied to you! Join me!"

"She knows," Shaw said quietly, watching his enraged daughter stare at Frost. "Because she killed him." Both women turned to look at him. "Your adopted father would be no use to me dead. He had just left the Professor Xavier when he died."

Frost began to raise a protective wall, "It was an unfortunate . . ."

The wall burst apart as Firestar closed in.

Trapped under water, Justice felt his lungs burning. He pushed out frantically with his power. Water poured out of the pool. The pressure on Justice's chest eased, and he telekinetically pushed himself out of the pool.

And into a herd of guardsmen. He could see Firestar and Frost facing off. He could see Thomas closing in on Shaw. Where in hell were the others, he thought. He raised a shield to block the bullets heading his way, and then he pushed outward, sending the guardsmen flying away.

He needed to get to Firestar.

Firestar let the power build and flow out of her. All she saw was Frost. All she wanted to see was Frost dead. None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for Frost.

She felt the air around cool for a second, but she upped the heat. She burned her way though the ice slide, the ice wall, and the countless barrages that Frost sent her way, gaining ground each second while making sure Frost would not be able to reach the pool. Her blasts came out harder each time, putting Frost on the defensive, making it close for impossible for the telepath to use her mental powers. The ice spikes on Iceman's back melted as Frost was forced to a solely defensive position.

Shaw watched as his daughter destroyed everything that Frost threw at her and felt an unexpected flush of pride. He could see water start to roll down Iceman's form, and then evaporate as it met the heat his daughter poured from her body. He smiled. Soon Emma would be dead.

"Sir," Thomas called as he ran up. The guardsman's eyes took in the fight above him.

"Get ready and shoot Iceman when there is an opening," Shaw commanded.

Thomas pulled out his gun and pointed it at Shaw's head. "I don't take my orders from you."

"Why?" Shaw asked, his mind trying to find a way out.

"Why not?" Thomas countered. "Angelica, back away, or Shaw dies and then your friends!"

Firestar paused in her assault on Frost and looked down.

Thomas smiled.

A smile that turned into a frown as the gun fell apart in his head.

"Nita's got the teams!" Justice shouted up at Firestar who turned in time to destroy an ice spear headed her way. Justice blasted Thomas off of his feet and held the weaker telekinetic to the ground the he reached out and grabbed hold of Shaw. "Neither one of you is going anywhere."

Steam surrounded the patio. Inside Iceman, Frost felt the mutant's power falter in the confrontation with her daughter. She needed a new host. She constructed a thick ice cocoon to buy time. She tried for Firestar, but the microwaves interfered. Distracted she didn't notice her student circling, but Frost felt the huge blast that destroyed the cocoon and sent her crashing helplessly to the patio.

"Kill her," Shaw hissed, ignoring Justice's glare.

Firestar looked down at Frost. Streams of water poured down Iceman's body as his ice form began to melt. She had let Frost go once and for that the bitch had killed her father.

Iceman shimmered and shifted back to human form as the heat overcame his ice.

Nana, Firestar thought as the power built up inside her again, wouldn't want her to kill an innocent. Her father wouldn't want her to kill, but Frost had killed him

"Angelica," Justice said softly.

Firestar heard the well loved voice. She raised her hands and with a scream of rage, blasted the portion of patio feet away from Frost to ash.

As steam rose from the resulting carter, Frost stirred in Iceman's body. Weakling, she sneered. If not Angelica, than someone Angelica would not, could not bring herself, to harm. Frost sent herself into Justice. She felt him struggle against her, letting go of first Shaw and then Thomas. Still, it wasn't enough to stop her.

She needed to get away, Frost thought as she settled into her new host. She could sense the approach of another telepath, that damned Jean Grey. Frost lashed out with Justice telekinesis. She pushed Shaw away and slammed Firestar to the ground.

"Go," she commanded to Thomas, who nodded and backed away.

"Justice?" Firestar moaned as she pushed herself up.

"It's not Justice," Shaw coughed making a mental note to track down and kill the fleeing Thomas. "It's Emma."

Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, Firestar rose into the air, blasting at the area around Justice, trying to keep him penned in, trying to stop from Frost from using him to leave.

Frost constructed shields. Cursing, she felt Firestar shift her power slightly as the young woman tried to disrupt Frost's telepathic power enough for Justice to regain control. Frost turned Justice's body, preparing to let go with a massive blast. Whether it was due to Firestar's power or something else entirely, she felt the young mutant fight back once more. Frost could feel his deep rooted fear of hurting Angel. She struggled for control, against a man who would gladly use his power against his own body, if it meant Firestar would not be harmed.

Firestar paused. It looked like an internal battle was happening. She hovered, pulsating, hoping that her power was weakening Frost's telepathy, hoping that Justice would be okay.

Shaw looked around. His daughter and her friend were engaged. He gestured to two approaching guardsmen and made his way to a car. He got in. Much to his surprise, his daughter had saved his life, apparently even when she hadn't needed to. Puzzling, he thought. He did not like being beholden to someone, but at least Frost's defeat would ensure his return to power in the Hellfire Club. He leaned back as Felix drove the car way the mansion, and smiled.

With a loud whoosh, Nova flew overhead and quickly deposited Thrash, Cyclops, and Jean Grey on the grounds. Thrash and Cyclops moved to deal quickly with the few remaining guardsmen. As Beast moved to Iceman, Jean Grey hurried over to the struggling Justice.

Frost wrenched control back from Justice. "Oh, no you don't," a voice said clearly. Frost felt her essence yanked away from Justice by the power of three telepaths working together, and shoved back into Iceman's exhausted body. "I don't like these things," Beast grumbled as he tagged Iceman with a power inhibiting bracelet, "But in this case, I will live with it."

"Vance!" Firestar shouted as she flew over.

Nova reached him first and helped his friend to his feet. "He's okay, Red," the Human Rocket said.

Firestar ignored him and helped support Justice, wincing slightly as his weight rested on her injured shoulder.

"I'm fine, Ang," Justice repeated. "It's over." He finished looking at Beast tending to Iceman. He moved away from Nova and held Angel. "It's over," he repeated softly.

Angel shook her head, "Frost, what are they going to do with her? She killed my father."

Jean Grey turned to them, "We're going to put her back where she belongs, after Psylocke has fried her brain. She'll be collared. She'll go to trial."

"Come on Red. Let's get you home," Nova offered.

Firestar murmured something that only Justice heard, "What home?"


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Power Behind the Throne Part 16 - Epilogues

Rating: MA

Author: Ethiercn

Disclaimer: As if I owned them.

Note: There is a time lapse between Part 15 and 16 as well as between each epilogue

Inside, Nita Prentiss' residence, a knock on his open bed room door woke Vance. Blinking, he looked up. Angel stood framed in the doorway. Without a word, he pulled the covers back, "Come here."

She crept quickly into his bed, huddling into him. Careful of her healing shoulder, he held her shaking body.

"I can't," she began and then paused to swallow. "I need . . . every time, every battle . . . I see . . . I see blood all the time. I don't want to let you down. . . . I. . . I'm not right. I can't . . . I need. "

"Shh. I know," he whispered, kissing her temple. "Sleep. We'll think of something." When she slept, he thought about all her years at the academy, all those years of abuse at the hands of Frost, culminating in the Randall's death in her arms, and her rebellion against the woman who had been like a mother. He thought about the two near fatal attacks on her father. He thought about the whole affair with the Upstarts, with Shaw, and the death of her father. He recalled how she steeled herself every time she went back to the house or to Frost's trial. Worse, they had barely buried Mr. Jones and then the Sphinx had attacked. If she wasn't helping the Warriors deal with the crisis of the week, Angel was dealing with Iceman's constant apologies for what Frost had done while in his body. After seeing the toll each apology took on her, Vance had called Iceman and asked him to stop. At least he had had therapy in the Vault, Vance thought, at least Nita and Nova, even Rage, had taken time off. Angel, however, had gone from crisis to crisis from emergency to emergency without rest, and here she was terrified that she would let them down.

She needed to get away, he concluded. In the morning, he decided, he would convince her to use the money, Shaw had mysteriously deposited in her account. Blood money, Angel called it, but bowed to Nita's opinion and kept it. She could use the money to get away, to rest, to recover.

And if Angel being right meant he had to take time away from the Warriors, then he that's what he would do.

(Epilogue 2)

Justice watched as the police secured the two would be bank robbers. He glanced at his watch. He needed to get to Nita's to change before catching his plane to join Angel in Spain. When they had talked last night, she had sounded better, still not herself, but better.

"Justice!"

He turned at the sound of his name and saw Captain America approaching. "Sir."

What Captain America had to say took some time and Justice found himself in the awkward position of wishing his idol would hurry up and get to the damn point.

"And the up shot is," Captain America concluded, "that due to your and Firestar's performance with the Sphinx as well as with Shaw and the Hellfire Club, a performance which Beast praised highly, the Avengers would like to offer you both places on the reserve team."

"What?" Justice choked out.

Captain America repeated the offer.

The word yes was on the tip of Justice's tongue. It was his dream, the thing he most desired with one important exception. "I would love to sir," he began, "But Firestar needs time to . . ."

"Recover from her loss," Captain America interrupted. "Beast told me."

Justice nodded, "And she needs me, sir, so you'll understand why I have to say no."

"The offer is open for when the two of you return," Captain America replied. "Think it over."

(Epilogue 3)

Vance watched as the small bear cub stalked the huge stork that was making free with the fish in the bear enclosure. The cub pounced only to watch as the stork flew easily away. The would be killer sat back on his haunches with the classic aw shucks expression on his furry face. Vance smiled. Beside him, Angel giggled. An honest giggle. Vance's smile widen, "Do you think the zoo raises the fish?"

"Like the rabbit looking thing the tigers were eating?" Angel asked.

"It did explain the large amount of fat rabbits in the children's zoo," Vance looked down into Angel's eyes. They had arrived in Copenhagen two days ago, and Vance finally saw the pain start to leave her eyes.

"Do you think they release the rabbits and let the tigers hunt them?" she asked taking his arm as they walked to the next enclosure.

"I'm not sure. But could you imagine the outcry at home?"

A short time later, they left the zoo and made their way to a nearby park where they brought ice cream and found a quiet park bench.

"Vance," Angel said slowly when she finished the last bit of her cone. "Do you think we could share a room tonight?" She blushed but kept her gaze fixed on him.

"Are you sure?" Vance asked as he took her hand.

Angel nodded, "After everything with Shaw, and if I go with you to the Avengers. . ."

"I haven't made up my mind yet," Vance interrupted.

Angel placed her warm on his lips and smiled knowingly. "I love you. I want to be with you. I don't want to regret not being with you because we waited for some magical time that never came."

He kissed her hand and then cupped her cheek, "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "I want this too."

"I know," she leaned into his touch. "What are you thinking?"

"Honestly? Trying to figure out if the rooms have been made up, making a note to use the "do not disturb" sign," he replied, feeling her skin flush slightly. "Feeling sorry for Rich for losing the bet."

Angel frowned, "What bet?"

"That you and I wouldn't visit the Erotica Museum. Rich said it would be too awkward. But after to night, I don't think it will be." He rose and held out his hand to Angel.

She took it, "Trust Rich to know about the Erotica Museum."

(Epilogue 4)

"Where are you going?" Vance asked, sliding his arms around Angel's waist and pulling her back into place against his chest, entangling their legs once more under the sheet.

"Our clothes are still wet," Angel poked his chest and then tucked her long hair behind her ears. "I was going to dry them, which I should have done before we got distracted."

"I'm a telekinetic, remember?"

"How could I forget after what you just did?"

He kissed her nose and then pulled their discarded clothes over to the bed. Tonight found them in a rainy Amsterdam. Vance slyly removed a small box from his jeans pocket while Angel contracted on drying his sweater without shrinking it.

When Angel dried the last item of clothing, folded it, and stacked it with the others, Vance moved the whole pile to a nearby chair. Angel lay back against him.

"Ang, I've been thinking," he began capturing her hand with his. He had planned to do this earlier, but the way she had looked, all wet from the rain had distracted him, "about the living arrangements when we join the Avengers in a couple weeks".

She frowned, "You said there was space at their mansion"

"True, but I was thinking about something together, more . . ." he faltered; he was making a jumble of everything. He sat up, forcing her to sit up as well. The sheet slide down for a moment, giving him a distracting sight, but she clutched the sheet to her chest and rested her arms on her knees as she waited for him to finish.

"Will you marry me?" he finished and held out the open jewelry box.

(Epilogue 5)

"I can't wear this," Firestar stated, looking at her reflection in the mirror. The costume designed by Wasp left too much hanging out.

Justice pulled on his boots as he studied his wife, "I think it looks good on you."

"What am I suppose to do? Stun the bad guys with my cleavage?"

"Works on me," Justice quipped.

"Give me on of your tee-shirts," she demanded of her husband with a blush and a laugh.

"Ready?" he asked when she finished adjusting the costume. He peered over her shoulder at their reflection. He kissed her shoulder.

Firestar took his hand and nodded. "Let's go. We don't want to be late."

Together, they left to join the rest of the Avengers.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I know joining the Avengers doesn't happen like it does in this fic. However, considering how badly Marvel broke up Justice and Firestar, and considering the very disappointing (if not insulting) Firestar plot in Marvel Divas, I thought Vance/Angel shippers deserved a happy ending.


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